


Sound Logic

by Aytheria



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Co-Parenting, Gen, Ignores Infinity Wars & Endgame, Irondad & Spiderson, No real plot just lots of feels, POV Peter, POV Tony, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Spider-Man: Homecoming - Alternate Universe, Started as pseudo-crack, Supportive May Parker (Spider-Man), character exploration, introspective, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2020-07-28 13:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20064778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aytheria/pseuds/Aytheria
Summary: “Fri, remind me never to have kids, okay? I’m not cut out for all this worrying.”FRIDAY just wanted to help Boss stop worrying so much, ergo if he had tangible proof that Peter Parker wasnothis biological child, he could stop worrying. The logic was sound. Now all she had to do was get the proof.OR:When FRIDAY’s coding takes a more liberal interpretation of a passing comment, a secret is uncovered that leads Tony Stark to the Parker’s front door and into the terrifying world of parenthood





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> This is miles away from anything I've written before, but Irondad and Spiderson stole my soul during Homecoming, and I started writing this for fun, mostly as crack. Then Infinity Wars, Endgame and (more recently) Far From Home utterly destroyed me, so I decided I needed to share this self-indulgent disaster fic with the world, seeing how MarvelStudios clearly isn't going to give us the Irondad and Spiderson content we deserve.
> 
> Fair warning: this is mostly just me writing 100k of a ridiculous 'what if' scenario, Tony & Peter feels, and character introspection that utterly ignores everything canon post-Homecoming. I've also read way too many other fics to not have my characterization affected by fandom tropes, so you've been duly warned. Also, many plotholes live here.
> 
> If you're just here for more Irondad and Spiderson fluff, then you've come to the right place. Plotholes there may be, but angst, there be not.
> 
> I've also decided I'm not going to bother doing much editing, so it's going to be just me posting by the seat of my pants...
> 
> ...okay, so i say that and we all know i am a lying liar who lies but this time i really will try not to over-edit and over-analyze to the point where i end up never posting the next chapter because i decided i need to re-write the whole thing. no. this fic is already 100k and i do not need to be re-writing all that
> 
> Anyway, uh, so, yeah. Enjoy?

## PART I.

### I.

Tony knew he never should have taken Peter Parker to Berlin. The kid was barely out of diapers, wide-eyed, full of wonder, and painfully naive. Strong—incredibly so—but that didn’t excuse the fact that he was a _kid_ and he, Tony Stark, took him into a volatile situation to apprehend a world-renown assassin and _Captain goddamn America_ himself. 

Truthfully, he had never imagined it would have ended up going quite so far. He had expected Cap to pontificate, then barter, and eventually they’d work it out with words. Peter was just supposed to be there as a show of strength, to keep Cap from thinking he had a position of power because he had more back-up. That’s how it _should have _gone. 

But it didn’t. And Rhodey broke his back. The kid had had to actually fight. 

And Tony, like an asshole, left him in Berlin to chase after Cap to Siberia where he nearly lost his own head to that parent-killing bastard and that…that self-righteous _prick_ who’d called himself Tony’s friend. When was he going to learn? At the end of the day…no one picked Tony Stark. 

And of the small handful of people who had bothered to stick around for more than a few years…well, they didn’t have a good track record of keeping their good health, apparently.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was the kid. Tony had thought long and hard about the kid. He’d dragged him into that mess of a situation, and afterwards he’d let him keep the suit, because it would be safer than letting him run around in his goddamned pajamas and a pair of goggles. And then he’d put Happy in charge and took a big step back. It was safer that way. 

Or so he thought, until Peter somehow wound up a thousand feet in the air, plummeting to his death, wrapped in the parachute that _Tony_ had installed for backup, and he almost had a heart attack at a festival in Mumbai.

Goddamn teenagers. See, this is why he never had kids. He hoped. God, what if he _did_ have kids? What if somewhere out there was some poor bastard with Stark genes and no idea why life kept shitting on him? Or her. After all, Starks all had a terrible track record. One of their ancestors must have really screwed the pooch.

No, he’d know if he had kids. He’d always been meticulously careful and every attempt at a paternity suit had always been thoroughly vetted and hushed up. His father may not have taught him much in the way of life skills, but that was one thing he’d taken the time out of his busy, busy schedule to make sure Tony had a thorough understanding and healthy fear of.

And yet, every time he had FRIDAY sift through Peter’s suit footage and play the highlights, every time he heard the kid babble on lightning fast, mind clearly racing a mile a minute, impossibly inquisitive and whip smart, it reminded him so painfully of himself as a child that his thoughts inevitably spiraled and he found himself on that same track again and again, wondering, imagining…what if…what if…

It was enough to drive anyone crazy.

The kid was precocious and naive, crazy smart and eager to please, and shared so many of the same traits that Tony had had when he’d been a young teen, eager to find his place in the world…eager to make his dad proud.

And damn if he didn’t sometimes look at the kid with pride…as if he had had anything to do at all with how conscientious and kind-hearted and _good_ Peter Parker was. All he’d done was get him involved over his head and hand him a suit that would be able to protect him, and maybe that had been a poor decision because now the kid seemed to think he could go after men with _real_ weapons and _real_ power. The type of men who _killed_ people like Peter.

The minute he got on the plane leaving from Mumbai, he called up the Feds and passed along everything Peter had found out. He leant back in his chair, swirling his scotch slowly in its chilled glass, though he barely took more than a sip, and stared thoughtfully out the window. That should do it. Peter had promised him he’d leave it alone, Tony had done his part, and the Feds would take care of the rest. Peter would be safe and…

…and Tony caught a flash of his own reflection in the plane window and suddenly, he was seeing Peter’s face, wide-eyed and shivering from the lake water, motor-mouth spewing every detail he could remember. He wrenched his gaze away from the window and stared at his scotch instead, feeling a sense of déjà vu wash over him, a faint echo of a past Tony—a fourteen year old, precocious little asshole Tony who thought he knew everything. 

What had he said to the kid again? That’s right…_Because I said so!_

When was the last time _any _teenager listened to an adult when they said that? When would _Tony_ have ever listened to someone when they said not to do something _because_ _they_ _said so?_

He reached for the bridge of his nose and breathed out heavily. “Shit, I’m an idiot.” And terrible at this adult-mentoring thing. This is why he shouldn’t be in charge of kids of any kind! This is why he didn’t _have_ kids of any kind.

He hoped.

Except…as much as Peter gave him numerous heart-stopping moments of sheer panic, there was a spot inside his chest that warmed every time the kid looked at him with awe and tried to emulate him. Not to mention the not-hug in the car. That had made that spot situated somewhere on the left side of his chest fill with warmth that almost sparked.

It was kind of nice; which he would only ever admit in the darkest recesses of his mind. So yeah, okay, maybe he could sorta understand why people became parents, if it was to have someone look at you that way all the damn time; to know that you were responsible for that bright, vivacious life and feel pride in every small, wonderful thing they did. 

Of course, then there were the terror filled moments where he realized that yes, he was responsible for another, smaller human being’s life. And then those warm fuzzy feelings evaporated into spiraling anxiety and he remembered why he never wanted kids. Tony Stark couldn’t even keep a goldfish alive, let alone a smaller human.

He slumped lower in his seat. He was the only one in the main cabin, so he tilted his gaze towards his phone. “FRIDAY?”

The phone lit up. “Yes, Boss?”

“If you tell a teenager not to do something because you said so…what’s the probability that they’ll do as they’re told?”

Stupid question, he knew the answer already, he didn’t need data to back this up.

“Sorry, Boss, I can’t find any relevant research on the subject… But based on data from numerous books and television, I’m going to say, the probability is not high.”

Tony slumped further with a groan. God, he was getting too old for this. This wasn’t even his kid! Just a random super-powered teenager he’d snatched off the streets (okay, cornered in his room) and dragged off to Berlin to fight a battle that wasn’t his, and so now he felt _responsible_ for the kid, and…

“Fri, tell Happy to keep a closer eye on Spider-kid, okay?”

As FRIDAY acknowledged the command, Tony turned to stare out the window again, brow furrowed. Would that be enough? Or should he talk to Peter again? Maybe taking a step back had been the mistake, because the kid hadn’t had enough rules to follow. Maybe he needed to actually step _up._

Then again, what did he know? It’s not like he was the kid’s father or anything. He’d done his research, the kid had had a father-figure once, but the guy had died almost a year ago, so now it was just the hot aunt and the kid by themselves. 

Now that he thought about it…that sounded pretty rough. Were they able to make ends meet? Super-powered metabolisms took a lot of calories. Was the kid getting enough food? Maybe he should send over some high-calorie energy bars, just in case. 

He rubbed his temple. Jeez, was he now worrying if the kid _ate_ enough? That wasn’t his problem. The hot aunt probably had that all well in hand. He shouldn’t have to worry about that, not when he had a multi-billion dollar company to run, a superhero club to manage, and governments all over the world to appease…all while being a part-time superhero-slash-consultant.

He thumped his head against the window. “Fri, remind me never to have kids, okay? I’m not cut out for all this worrying.”

There was silence and then his phone lit up and FRIDAY’s hesitant voice emerged. “Worrying about what, Boss?”

He flung out a hand, even if FRIDAY couldn’t currently see. “Spider-kid! Peter! He’s just…” He cleared his throat. “I mean, teenagers are stressful. I don’t need that kind of stress in my life.”

“I do not understand, what does this have to do with never having kids?”

Tony barked a laugh. “Because look how much I’m already worrying about a kid that’s not even _mine_.” He shook his head, “God, if anything happens to Parker, it’s my fault.” He rubbed his head again. God, he had a headache. He reached for the scotch.

“Are you saying you would worry _more _if he was your child?” FRIDAY questioned, and maybe the confusion in her voice was fair, since Tony honestly wasn’t sure. Would it be worse? He tried to imagine, but that lead his mind down a path that was far too dangerous.

A kid like Peter? Tony liked the kid, honestly, and sometimes he could almost imagine what it would be like to have a kid like that. Almost.

He took a large gulp of the scotch, letting out a heavy breath. “Yeah, I think I would. I mean, imagine how bad it would be if the kid actually had my DNA? We Starks are notorious for getting into shit.”

“I will check,” FRIDAY assured him, “then you can stop worrying so much.”

Tony choked on his brandy. “What? No, that’s not… That’s not what I meant. Jesus, FRIDAY.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, that’s enough of this conversation. Just…make sure Happy keeps a closer eye on the kid, and…when we get back to New York, uh, see if I have some time in my calendar to chat with him, okay?”

FRIDAY was quiet for a moment or two, then, “Sure thing, Boss.” Then the phone went dark and Tony sighed, leaning back in his seat, scotch glass pressed to his forehead. 

Yeah, thinking about it…he was glad he never had kids. 

* * *

“Boss?”

“Not now, FRIDAY.” 

Tony was working in his lab on the design for a second Spider-man suit. It was overkill, sure, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how the parachute had deployed as a safety measure and instead nearly sent Peter to a watery grave. He had to do better than that—he _could_ do better than that. So he’d sat down during some of the spare minutes he had between getting back from Mumbai to keeping track of the move from the Tower to the Compound (not to mention dodging calls from the damn government, couldn’t they even wait _one day_ after he was back on US soil?) to start designing a suit that would account for _every_ danger scenario he could possibly think of and then some. 

“Boss, it’s about codename Underoos.”

Tony slowly put down his stylus and straightened in his seat. Somehow, his heart had begun to beat faster and for some reason he felt a lump in his throat. “What?”

“I thought it prudent to inform you that he has left the Greater New York area and is headed south. Mr. Hogan is calling him now.”

The pounding in his heart went down, but he still couldn’t go straight back to working. “And?”

“Mr. Hogan does not seem concerned, though the tracker on the suit puts him as heading south towards D.C., Boss.”

Tony pursed his lips. “Pull it up.”

Sure enough the little tracker he’d installed in the suit was blinking its way down the interstate towards Maryland. He narrowed his eyes. At those speeds, Peter was undoubtedly in a vehicle. 

“According to the school database, the Academic Decathlon team is heading for the National Championships. Mr. Parker is part of the team,” FRIDAY helpfully informed him, unprompted.

Tony nodded to himself. Sure, that made sense. Kid was just on a school trip…so then _why_ did he have the suit on him?

But why not?

But why would he…? Tony groaned and pinched his nose. 

This wasn’t working. He was constantly thinking about what new danger Peter was going to get himself into next. For God’s sake, he’d gone a blissful several months since Berlin without worrying about the kid even once! Happy gave his reports, Tony occasionally reviewed the footage or read the texts, and all in all, everything was fine and dandy. Peter was your friendly neighborhood Spider-guy and Tony had peace of mind knowing the kid was wearing the best technology even money couldn’t buy.

But since the altercation barely twenty-four hours ago with the flying criminal and the super-powered weapons, the ever-present worry that Peter wasn’t actually going to listen and stop poking around kept up a constant presence in the back of his mind. It was a miracle he got any sleep at all. Look at him, he was already working on a second suit!

He was doing it all over again…overcompensating for his fears by building more suits. 

What should he do? The kid was fine. He had the tracker, and the tracker would make sure he was really going to the Nationals, right?

“FRIDAY, watch that tracker like a hawk. If it shows any kind of suspicious behavior you tell me right away, and Happy too. Got it?”

“You got it, Boss,” FRIDAY chirped.

Tony sighed and glanced down at the new schematics. For his own peace of mind, he should really finish these things so he could get the new suit fabricated and get Peter in something safer. He paused and glanced upwards again. “…and make sure you pencil in a chat for when the kid gets back from D.C.”

FRIDAY acknowledged, “Done and done.”

Okay. Good. Everything was good. 

* * *

Everything was not good.

Since Tony had told FRIDAY to keep an eye on the tracker for suspicious behavior, and then FRIDAY had noticed the tracker hadn’t moved, even when Peter was supposed to have been at the Decathlon competition, she had alerted him and Happy, and once again his heart had started pounding away like a jackrabbit. Happy had (logically) concluded that Peter had decided not to risk bringing the suit with him, and while it made _sense,_ Tony couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“I swear this kid is going to put me in an early grave,” he complained as he stared at the unmoving tracker dot with a frown.

“Boss, that’s hardly healthy. You shouldn’t worry so much.”

Tony furiously texted Happy, though he still jerked his chin towards where he knew FRIDAY had a sensor and a speaker. “Yeah, well, apparently I can’t just turn it off, much as I’d like to.” He hit send and relaxed slightly, knowing Happy would follow-up with the kid and double check everything was okay.

“Yes…” FRIDAY said, but there was something in her modulated voice that made him look up properly with a frown and stare at the closest camera.

“Fri?”

“I understand, so I…took the liberty of sending a drone for a DNA sample. Like you said on the plane, you won’t worry so much if he doesn’t have your DNA. If I can assure you that is not the case, you can worry less.”

Tony gaped at the camera lens. “That’s…that’s not what I _meant_, FRIDAY! Christ. I didn’t…I don’t…”

The phone began to ring. At the same time, FRIDAY suddenly switched his view screen over to what appeared to be a national news channel and Tony forgot everything he was about to say, because _there was Spider-man climbing the National Monument, Jesus frickin’ Christ!_

“Boss, are you watching the news?” Happy’s voice cut through suddenly from his phone.

Slowly, Tony slid his eyes over to the map showing the tracker still sitting innocently in the location of the hotel…while Spider-man climbed the National Monument with Police helicopters circling overhead.

“He took the tracker out,” he mumbled, shocked.

“What?” said Happy.

“That does appear to be the case,” said FRIDAY.

Tony slowly squeezed his eyes shut. “I said ‘Because I said so’ and he took the damn tracker out!” He whirled on the seat, springing to his feet. “FRIDAY, alert the police, they are _not_ to engage him hostilely. Jesus _fuck_. Happy!”

“Yeah, Boss?”

“Get down there! No, wait, what am I saying, FRIDAY, deploy the suit… Shit, no, that’ll take too long…”

“Tony…the kid’s fine. Look, he’s in, he’s in. It’ll be fine,” Happy soothed. 

“I’m gonna kill him, I am,” Tony mumbled. He rubbed his forehead. He did not need this stress. What was the kid thinking, removing the tracker?

If he’d removed the tracker, what else had he been up to that Tony didn’t know about?

“Happy… When Peter gets out of there, I want you to find out _exactly_ what he’s been up to.”

Happy’s hesitation was almost a physical thing that he could tell even over the phone. “But the move?”

“Can wait!” Tony snapped.

He rubbed his forehead again after Happy hung up. He had a headache, and his blood pressure was definitely elevated, and just… He really regretted getting tangled up in Peter Parker’s life. He should have just left the kid to his own devices, webbing stolen bikes to lamps in his shitty pajamas. 

Except…what if the kid had gotten in over his head regardless? And he hadn’t had the suit because Tony never gave it to him…then what?

Okay, that was enough what-ifs. 

“Uhh…Boss?”

Tony heaved a massive sigh. “What _now,_ FRIDAY?”

“The DNA samples I sent to the lab as priority delivery have been processed and the results just arrived downstairs. I’m sending the envelope up now.”

Tony stared at the two screens blankly. On one, he could see the tracker, unmoving, and on the other, he could see medics and firetrucks and police cars circling the bottom of the Monument as distraught students streamed out. Peter was nowhere in sight, but considering the news blurb was ‘Spider-man saves students trapped in elevator!’, that was probably a good thing.

Slowly, he looked up at the camera. “FRIDAY, I can’t believe you…” he trailed off, head shaking slowly. How was this his life? That his own A.I. felt the need to reassure him by getting a paternity test! “FRIDAY…knowing Peter isn’t my son—which I _already _know, I might add—isn’t going to help. I’ll still feel responsible, okay?”

FRIDAY’s voice sounded thoroughly disappointed. “Are you sure, Boss?”

“I’m sure,” he snapped. Then closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Sorry.”

FRIDAY was silent.

Tony turned back to the nearly completed schematics. He’d had maybe five or six hours of sleep last night before he’d been awoken by nightmares of Peter falling to his death again and had dragged himself out of bed and back down to the lab to finish the second suit design. The problem was, he wouldn’t be able to fabricate it here, since most of his lab was being dismantled for packing and moving upstate. The only things left intact were a few of his holographic tables, and the built in sensors and cameras, which would be the last to go. Even his bots were boxed up—powered down and ready to be shipped off in one of the secure trucks. He’d have to wait until everything was finished being installed up at the Compound to fabricate this thing, and that wouldn’t be for at least another few weeks.

But he’d be damned if he couldn’t design it to death first, and run a hundred and one simulations.

Suddenly, FRIDAY piped up, “Boss, mail has been delivered to the usual spot. I think you should go look at it.”

Seriously? Was FRIDAY still harping on about that? What exactly did she think was going to change when he saw the ‘no match’ result? Nothing. He was still gonna worry about that damn reckless idiot teenager. Maybe he should double check her code just in case she had some kind of glitch.

Instead of getting up to get the mail, he turned in his seat and told FRIDAY to run simulation number one hundred and two.

It wasn’t until three hours later, when FRIDAY finally convinced him to get a snack, that he found the mail lying on the empty kitchen table. He frowned as he passed it by for the cupboards. The fridge was already down to the bare bones, as were the cupboards, so he had to search to find a package of old dried blueberries. FRIDAY offered to order in some take-out.

He studiously ignored the official looking envelope for the first fifteen minutes while waiting for take-out, that is, until the elevator dinged and Happy came striding in. “Hey, Bossman. So, kid’s on his way back to New York, and we finished loading the trucks for most of the apartment furniture, they’ll depart soon, so we’re getting close to finishing all the non-priority items.” He stopped, looked at the open cupboards—empty—and the package of blueberries in Tony’s hands. “Please tell me you ordered something else? And why are you still here, Tony? Shouldn’t you be upstate already?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “The kid, Hap, focus.”

Now it was Happy’s turn to roll his eyes. “Told you, on his way back, he’s fine.”

Tony scowled. “He took his tracker out, that is _not_ fine.”

Happy went for his phone. “Want me to call and yell at him a bit?”

Tony shook his head. “Nah, I’ll call him myself. Think it’s about time I did.” He sighed.

Suddenly, Happy’s eyes strayed to the mail on the table…or rather, the single envelope on the table…and he scowled and marched forward. “Are you still getting mail here? I thought I took care of that already?” He grabbed the envelope before Tony could stop him, a handful of dried blueberries falling from his fingers to the floor. Tony ignored them as he made a grab for the damn envelope, but Happy was already reading the front with a frown. “From the Labs? Oh, see, addressed to the Tower. I’m telling you, Boss, I took care of it, no one should be sending us mail to the Tower anymore. I’m gonna call these guys and fix this, I promise.”

“Actually, Mr. Hogan, it was I who requested this particular labwork to come here. It won’t happen again, I assure you,” FRIDAY announced and Happy jerked in surprise to stare at the ceiling.

“Uhh, I thought FRIDAY was uninstalled?”

She was supposed to have been. That was why Tony was _here_ after all, and not up at the Compound. He was supposed to have come back from Mumbai, uninstalled FRIDAY, and headed up to the Compound to make sure no one had fucked up his labs with all the moving equipment. Instead, he’d sat down in his mostly useless lab at the Tower and grabbed one of his last working holographic interface tables and started designing Peter’s second suit. 

This is what that damn kid did to him. If this is how his butler Jarvis had felt every time his charge got in a spot of trouble, no wonder the poor man had died of a heart attack. Tony was well on his way there himself, and the kid hadn’t even been on his radar longer than a few short, measly months.

Fatherhood would absolutely kill him. He’d tell Pepper, just in case she was having _thoughts._

Happy had fortunately put the envelope down again to stare accusingly at Tony. “_Tony_…you said you were gonna do the uninstallation yourself so I didn’t assign any resources. If I have to assign resources, we’re not gonna finish in time—”

“Relax, Hap,” Tony interrupted, before Happy’s face could get any more red with stress. “I’ll do it today, don’t you worry. In fact, I’ll start right after lunch.” He rolled his eyes. “Honestly, who exactly is employed by who here?”

But Happy ignored him. “Great, thanks Boss! Gotta go oversee the next set of trucks heading out and make sure the guys who head into the labs for the priority shipments don’t get any bright ideas. Just wanted to update you on the kid. Uh…you’re gonna call, right? I don’t have to?”

Tony made shooing motions with his hands, then reached for the mostly empty package of blueberries. “Yeah, yeah, go on.”

He was left alone to stare at the envelope, which was now placed face-up right in front of his nose, where he could clearly see the logo from the bio labs stamped on it, along with the words ‘PRIORITY’ in big block letters. Suddenly, he had a horrible thought. “FRIDAY…you didn’t tell them who the DNA was _for,_ did you?”

That would be just what he needed, someone leaking that Tony Stark had had a paternity test performed with some random teenage kid from Queens, who just so happened to be super-powered. His eyes widened and he scrambled for the envelope. “FRIDAY, what about Peter’s unique DNA, what if they found out he’s not normal…the Accords! Dammit, Fri!”

“Boss, I was careful,” FRIDAY complained. “The samples were anonymous, the technicians all signed NDAs, and I made sure they destroyed the samples afterwards, per protocol.”

Tony wasn’t listening. He pulled a second, smaller manila envelope out of the thick shell, and fumbled the papers out, expecting to see some report about mutant DNA or something asking about where the samples had come from so they could follow-up, but instead he was greeted with two sheets of paper, one of which had the doctor’s signatures and the detailed analysis, but the first…the first had a match.

99.9% match for known paternal markers.

“Oh good,” he said weakly, “they didn’t notice he’s got powers.”

No, but they had apparently noticed the kid was…the kid was…

He stared at it some more. **99.9% MATCH**, it declared, boldly. How? This shouldn’t be possible. He’d been _careful_. He’d shut down every attempt to claim support, because they’d all been false! None of them had turned out to be real!

Unless, of course, no one had ever come forward. If Peter’s mother had never come forward, then Tony would never have known…

He realized his hands were crumpling the papers between them to the point of illegibility, and slowly unwound his tight fingers. The damn papers dropped to the table, face up, and he just stared at them. His heart felt like it was about to explode, it was going so fast. Was he having a heart attack? Felt like it. 

What did he do? What did he _do?_

Did the hot aunt know? Did Peter? Of course not! If Tony didn’t, why would they?

No, no, no, no. This was _not_ happening. This was literally the most impossible thing that could ever happen.

He had to call Pepper. No, he had to call the hot aunt. He had to call _Peter._

His breath seized, and distantly, he thought he heard FRIDAY’s voice saying, “Boss, your vitals are elevated. Boss, you need to calm down!” but his mind was focused on one very important thing. 

Peter was _his._ Peter was a Stark. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. That's the entire plot/premise right there.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony reacts to this new revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I counted. I have about 16 chapters of varying lengths. At least for Part I. I'll reassess if I ever manage to write Part II of this story. Or maybe I'll make this a series.

### II.

Fifteen minutes later, the take-out had arrived, FRIDAY was contrite, and Tony had calmed down long enough to realize the test might not even be accurate. Especially if FRIDAY hadn’t sent the right DNA. FRIDAY indignantly pointed out she wouldn’t make a silly _human error_ like that, but it was the only thought keeping Tony from spiraling.

Because otherwise he had a fourteen-year old, super-powered son running around Queens taking on men with alien-powered guns and climbing national monuments while police tried to shoot him down, and frankly, he didn’t think his poor heart could take that type of stress.

He was going to be dead before fifty, done in by a teenager.

He didn’t know what to do. Did he call the aunt? Call _Peter?_ Ask him to come round so Tony could get a better DNA sample and do the damn test himself? And while he was at it, yell at the kid for removing his goddamned tracker? Because how the hell was Tony supposed to keep him safe if he didn’t know where he was every second of the day?

Okay, the kid was on his way back, the aunt had probably seen the news…what to do? He had shit to do, and yet…

Suddenly, dealing with this had become his number one priority. He should go over and sort this out immediately. Although… what if he screwed up the kid’s life even more by being in it? What if the kid didn’t want anything to do with him?

Did Tony? The kid had been fine for fourteen years, why not longer? He had his aunt, he was happy, what could Tony possibly offer except money?

Besides, he’d been planning that already. He’d already had his lawyers draw up an account for Peter’s school funds, just like he’d had an account made for Harley’s school funds. Bright kids like Peter and Harley shouldn’t have to worry about school expenses and student debt, only about taking advantage of the best education (Tony’s) money could buy. 

So…what difference would it make?

He paced back and forth, feeling another headache coming on. 

“Pros and cons,” he muttered aloud.

Okay, pros. Peter might actually be okay with it. Definite pro. Also, Peter might actually listen when Tony said ‘because I say so’. Also another definite pro. And… Tony could get to know the kid more. Maybe…

Maybe they could even do stuff together. Father-son stuff. 

He was getting ahead of himself. It’s not like he _wanted_ a kid or anything. He’d never wanted kids. Although, Peter was different. Peter was just so _bright_, and so painfully innocent and good—just trying to do the right thing. And so smart. Tony had seen his grades from school, before he lost his uncle, the kid could—_would_—go places. 

_He must get that from me, _Tony thought with not a small amount of wonder. 

Okay, cons. Cons were… Tony hurt the people he loved. Tony was a bad influence, clearly. Tony had nothing to offer but his money, and even that came with strings attached like unwanted media publicity. Peter was already happy and Tony could ruin that. Peter was already a teenager, he didn’t _need_ a father, especially not one like Tony, who didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

The cons list was starting to look pretty long.

So why weren’t they holding as much weight as the pros? The pros seemed superfluous, stupid, and yet for some reason, Tony couldn’t shake the idea of Peter smiling at him, pleased to be there, wanting to spend time with him, just…

He still had to talk to the kid about the tracker. And the aunt would need to know as well. And Peter might not need a father, but he sure as hell needed a superhero _mentor._ The kid would get himself killed otherwise.

A feeling of ice spread down his spine when he thought of Peter dead at the hands of criminals, that bright presence forever snuffed. 

That decided him. He might not make a good father, but by god was he going to keep the kid alive if it killed him.

* * *

Tony nearly turned around and walked away twice on the way up the stairs to the Parker’s apartment. He didn’t even know if the aunt—May, he had to remember that—was home, but this sort of discussion was better had in person, right? 

Honestly, if it weren’t for the lady who came out of an apartment near the stairs where he’d been about to make a strategic retreat, he wouldn’t have marched up to the Parkers’ door and knocked. Instead, the woman left her apartment and headed down the stairs, none the wiser that Tony Stark had been standing feet away.

Inside his ears, his heart pounded like a jackhammer. He could barely hear himself breathe. On the outside though, he had one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding the manila envelope that had started this whole mess, and his best media expression on.

The door cracked open. May Parker peered out at him with red-ringed eyes, then she flung the door open further and gaped at him. Tony only tightened his grip slightly on the envelope and stared back. “Hello.”

May blinked a few times, then seemed to collect herself. “Oh, uh, Mr. Stark, wow, uh, come in? Come in, please!” She pulled the door open wider and stepped to the side so Tony had enough room to move. He swallowed thickly, but forced himself to put one foot in front of the other and walk through the door. When it shut behind him, it shouldn’t have sounded as ominous as it did. 

“Mr. Stark, what are you doing here?” Her eyes widened. “Oh god, is this about D.C.? They told me Peter was fine…please tell me he’s okay!” 

“Whoa!” Tony held up the envelope like a shield. “It’s okay, I’m not here because of D.C. Although, remind me to talk to the kid about that, but…uh…I mean, I’m here because… Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair and only now realized he had no good way of explaining why he was here. Where was that smooth media charm when he needed it? Apparently, he completely lost his cool when it came to trying to explain this clusterfuck of a situation. 

May stared at him for a moment, then smiled tremulously. “Thank god. Do you want to sit down? I have some cookies and I can make some tea?”

Tony could only nod. Yeah. Sure. Anything to delay this conversation while he tried to come up with the least shocking way of dumping the results of this damn DNA test on the poor woman.

May shuffled off to the kitchen area while Tony glanced from one worn-in, squishy couch to the other and tried to decide where to sit. He finally sat in the smaller two seater, so he could watch May out of the corner of his eye as she put the kettle on and took out two mugs. Over her shoulder, she called, “What’s in the envelope? Is it for Peter?”

Tony glanced down at the slightly crinkled envelope. “No. It’s… I mean, sort of, but… I think you should see it first.”

May wandered back over with a plate of cookies in hand while the kettle boiled. She slipped around the back of the couch, put the cookies down, and frowned curiously at him. “Me? What is it?”

Tony tried to tell his hand to reach out and hand it over, but he couldn’t. His hand wouldn’t move. Nervously, he licked his lips. “You should understand that this…I didn’t go digging around on purpose. Actually, I didn’t even order the test. My A.I., and let me tell you, I’ll be going over her code with a fine-toothed comb after this because she’s _supposed_ to do what I say, not go off and do crazy shi—_stuff_ like _this_, but…” Okay, now he sounded just like Peter when he got nervous. This was ridiculous. He closed his mouth, breathed deeply, and tried again, “FRIDAY—my A.I.—ordered the test to—well, her logic was a bit skewed, and, honestly, there’s taking initiative and then there’s taking liberties, and this is definitely the latter.” He realized May was staring at him like he’d grown two heads, and perhaps he had, with all this babbling. Jesus. “Point is, I had _no idea. _Just wanna make that crystal clear.”

May was still staring at him. Christ, this was hard. Harder than that time he’d stepped up the podium and announced he was Iron Man. Even then, he’d been suave and cool and not afraid of the consequences, but right now? Right now he felt like a fifteen year old kid again, at MIT for the first time, nervous about rooming with some older guy who might decide his new favorite past-time was beating up Tony Wonderkid Stark in his bed while he slept. 

There shouldn’t be anything scary about May Parker, or Peter Parker, and yet… there was so much to lose right now, that he couldn’t help the nervous babble. Guess that was where Peter got it from. 

“Mr. Stark, deep breaths, please.” May was looking at him with both worry and a hint of amusement now, and seemed to be on the verge of reaching out to pat his shoulder.

Tony shoved the envelope into her hands, instead.

May took it carefully, and shooting him another concerned look, turned her attention to the papers inside. “So, what is this about? The internship? I hope Peter’s been behaving himself, he…” she trailed off, as Tony had expected her to, the moment she actually read the words across the top of the first piece of paper: **Paternity Test Results**. Her hands shook. “Wh-what is this?”

Tony’s eyes darted away when she looked up. He gestured helplessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw May flip to the other sheet and back again. “What is this?!” she demanded again, loudly. 

“I didn’t know. I said I didn’t order the test, my A.I., she’s got a mind of her own, and apparently a few bugs in her code, because she thought this would be a good idea—some stupid offhand comment I made, I swear—and then I got the results and… here I am.”

After more than a few hours of debate as to whether he should even come, sure. He honestly still wasn’t sure if this was the best path to take. He could have just watched over the kid from the sidelines, been his mentor, got him into a good college, made sure he had the best equipment and the best education—the best _everything_ really—but a small, tiny selfish part of him had needed to know—couldn’t live with the uncertainty. If it was all just a huge mistake, he _had _to know.

May gaped at him, then at the papers, then at him. “Are… Is this some kind of joke?”

Tony’s head jerked around. Now it was his turn to gape. “Are you kidding? Do you know how much trouble I’ve gone to over the years to hush up every single attempted claim—all of them false, by the way—and keep this from ever happening? I would not joke about this.”

May licked her bloodless lips. “Then… Then you’re… Peter is…”

“I think we can’t trust it. I…wanted to ask your permission to do a proper test, to know for sure. I have no idea where my A.I. got the DNA. For all we know, it could be contaminated. I just think we should be sure.” He let out a heavy breath and waited.

The kettle began to whistle, and May jumped. She shot him a wide-eyed look, then leapt to her feet and rushed over to turn it off. She came back, empty-handed and picked up the papers again, if only to clench them in her hands. Not that they weren’t already wrinkled enough. “You’re right… We should… Oh my god, what do we tell Peter?”

Tony took another deep breath and shrugged, trying to at least act more like this was no big deal. “That’s up to you. I’m not the one who raised him, and you know him best…”

May narrowed her eyes. “And if it is true? What will you do? Have us sign some NDA forms and give us hush money?”

Tony blinked, and despite the logical conclusion May had jumped to, well, that sliced him right to the core. It was ridiculous, but it hurt to think she would think he wouldn’t… That he would just…

“I… That’s up to Peter. Whatever the kid wants. I won’t… I won’t pressure him into anything.”

“You’d openly claim a relationship to him?” May asked, voice tinged with astonishment.

Tony could only nod. If that was what the kid wanted, sure. Although… Well, he’d think more about that when he knew for sure. No point worrying about that until he _knew._

May shook her head, hand meeting her forehead and brow wrinkling. “How on earth did this even happen? This seems impossible.”

“I know,” Tony agreed bitterly. “I can’t remember anything. It would have had to have been, what, fifteen years ago?”

May’s lips pursed. “Peter’s fifteen. He’ll be sixteen next August.”

Tony flushed. Right. Shit. Fifteen. “Okay, uh, sixteen years ago. I can’t think of anything, and no one tried to come forward that I can think of. That woulda been two-thousand-one… Nope, nada. I’ll get FRIDAY to run the data, but…” He shrugged. 

May’s frown only deepened. “Mary was already married to my brother-in-law at the time.”

Tony swallowed. Even better. He was off to a real great start here. “I don’t, or didn’t, make a habit of sleeping with married women, so… I don’t know what to tell you, uh, Miss Parker. Like I said, this came as a complete surprise to me too.”

May sighed, slumping, anger draining away. “What’s done is done. It’s… I’ll do some digging of my own, don’t know what I’ll find. You’re right, we should figure out what to tell Peter, and get a second opinion on the test.” She took a deep breath. “Why don’t I call you?” It was a clear move for dismissal. 

Tony wanted to ask to stay. He had things to say to Peter, but the kid wasn’t getting back for another hour, maybe two. His mouth opened and shut. “If… I mean, I’d like to talk to the kid—Peter—as well.”

May looked even more weary. “You want to figure this out _now?_ Okay, okay. Sure, why not? It’s not like this day could get any worse.” She groaned and reached forward for a cookie and Tony felt horrible. May was right, this day was already stressful enough, with the whole Spider-man-Monument debacle. Not that May knew that Peter hadn’t been _in_ the elevator, but the one climbing the outside of the building, seconds away from falling to his death, or in danger of being gunned down by trigger-happy police! 

“Peter has the internship with you…” May trailed off. “Will that change?”

Tony licked his lips. “I don’t see why it has to.”

“But…won’t that look bad? If he is your…your…” Apparently even May couldn’t say the words out loud. Tony was pretty sure he hadn’t said them out loud either. Not yet.

He shrugged. “What do I care? If Peter wants it, he can keep it.” Aka, the suit. That is, once Tony had laid into him about the tracker. Kid was _not_ getting out of that conversation. 

May was nodding. “Okay, that’s good. I think we should keep this as normal as possible for Peter’s sake. He’s a good kid, and he’s had a lot happen recently. This internship seems to make him happy.” She paused, biting her lip, then reached for another cookie. “I don’t know how he’s going to react, but… If it’s true that you never knew, and you came to me as soon as you did…” She looked thoughtful. “Peter’s always admired you. I think that he won’t be upset. I think he’ll take it well. He’s nearly sixteen, we should trust him with the truth, I think he can handle it.” She suddenly shook a finger at Tony. “But you! You follow my lead at all times, you got me?”

Tony’s mouth opened and shut. “Yes ma’am!” Damn, hot Italian aunt was, well, definitely Italian. His mother had been Italian, although high society had seemed to ween out most of the temper in her. She’d still had a fiery, steel core though, deep down. He liked to think he got most of his stubbornness from her. 

May was on her third cookie now. Tony eyed the plate and wondered if they were really that good, or if May was just some kind of stress-eater. “I don’t know if today is a good day, not after what happened. I think you should come over after school tomorrow and we can sit him down and lay it all out in a straightforward, mature manner.”

She glanced down at the papers lying in her lap and stuffed the last of her cookie into her mouth so she could cram the papers back into the envelope. “You take this, I don’t want him finding it by accident.” She practically threw the envelope at him and Tony fumbled to catch it.

He’d kind of been hoping to speak to Peter today, but he’d just promised May to follow her lead, so what he said was, “Alright. I can do that.”

Maybe tomorrow he could pull the kid aside and have a talk about responsibility and _not taking important trackers out of super suits_. Jeez, he was beginning to sound just like his father. Oh god, he was turning into his father—he _was_ a father.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s head jerked up. He hadn’t even realized he’d been staring at the envelope and that May had been trying to get his attention. She peered at him in concern. “You know…I guess this is pretty hard for you too. You look a little…railroaded.”

Tony tried to flash her his patented Tony Stark Media Smile, but he was certain it fell flat.

“Take tonight to process, I think you need it just as much as Peter needs a calm night in before we drop this bomb on him.”

Maybe May was right. Maybe all of Tony’s emotions were wrapped up in his fear of Peter’s earlier shenanigans. Maybe he should just go back to the Tower, and dismantle the remnants of FRIDAY’s cameras and sensors, so they could be packed up along with her Tower servers (not that she didn’t already have backups of backups of backups at the Compound and elsewhere). Tomorrow would be a new day, and they could deal with this insanity then. 

“Okay. Thanks, Ms-”

“Call me May,” May interrupted. “Might as well, since we’re basically family now. Maybe.”

Tony blinked hard. “Thanks, May.”

She showed him out, and then Tony was left, still reeling in the corridor, papers clutched in one hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna be honest, I fought over how to characterize Tony here. I've seen it go both ways, so in the end...indulgence won and I sent him straight to the Parkers front door. :D


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony comes to some conclusions

### III.

Honestly, the wait was agony. 

Tony was so distracted by thinking about the next day that he broke one of FRIDAY’s cameras and nearly broke a sensor. It was ridiculous. He was Tony freaking Stark, Iron Man, not this nervous wreck! But he couldn’t stop thinking about the next day and counting down the hours. 

Worse, he hadn’t even told Pepper yet. He should tell Pepper. Just…maybe _after_ they’d double checked the results? Yeah, just in case it was a false alarm.

Except, if he really believed that, why was he already thinking of Peter as his son? Why was he constantly finding little things about the kid and thinking, ‘He gets that from me, that’s a Stark trait’. No, he didn’t need another piece of paper to tell him the truth, but…

But…just in case. Just in case. 

Right before he left the Parker’s yesterday, he’d given May his personal number, and so now he was just waiting for the text that would tell him it was okay to come over. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do around here, considering Happy had had the men pack up most of FRIDAY’s equipment late last night. The move was going smoothly, if laboriously, but Happy was in his element telling people what to do, and really, Tony should be up at the Compound already, helping set things up on the other end, but he had booked a hotel room downtown instead and was now nervously pacing in front of the minibar. 

Didn’t kids get out of school at 3:00? It was 3:30, why hadn’t May called? Where was Peter? Oh god, what if he never came home? Maybe he should call Happy…except Peter had taken the damn tracker out. Maybe he should call _Peter._ Or wait, call May first.

He called May.

She sounded slightly exasperated when she finally picked up, possibly because he’d texted her twice already in the last twenty minutes. “Mr. Stark. Peter’s not home yet. I told him to come home right after school because I have something important to discuss with him, but he has detention. Apparently, he tried to skip out on school earlier.” She sounded upset, and worried. 

Tony narrowed his eyes. “You want me to call the school?”

May barked a laugh. “And say what?” She snorted. “Why would Tony Stark be calling Midtown High to get Peter Parker out of detention?”

Tony waved a hand flippantly. “Uhh, how about he’s my intern and I’ve got important work for him to do? Trust me, I’ve got excuses. Besides, I know the Principal.” 

“What… You do?” May sounded more than a little surprised. 

“Well, not _personally,_ but our families go way back. I’ve donated before. It’s a thing. Look, let me call, work something out, and _you_ call Pete to make sure he gets his butt back pronto.”

“…Okay.” May now sounded dubious, but Tony just rolled his eyes. Honestly, so little trust! He was Tony Stark, he knew how to get his way with things. 

Besides, it helped to know he was doing something useful. Even if it was just to get his—_the_—kid out of detention. 

Also, getting the kid out of detention could only help smooth the way forward, right? What kid didn’t appreciate getting out of detention? 

Although, they were going to have to talk about him skipping class. That was not acceptable. Kid had a bright future ahead of him, Tony was making sure of it. 

Shit, he was seriously sounding way too much like all those cringe-worthy parents on T.V.

Without further ado, he pulled off his end of the bargain. He called up the school—with a quick excuse about the importance of Peter’s internship and that he absolutely had to have him, and that a talk about responsibility from Tony Stark, Iron Man, would probably go much further than an hour of detention ever would—and the kid was home free. He hoped May was doing her part as well. If Peter didn’t show up in half an hour, he’d be damned if he wouldn’t hunt the brat down and drag him back by his web-shooters. 

Another fifteen minutes of nervous pacing before May called and then Tony was out the door.

The drive over was slow—damn New York traffic—which unfortunately gave him entirely too much time to think. Think about all the terrible ways Peter could react. Think about all the ways this could go wrong. Think about what could happen if Peter _was_ happy about it and it, somehow, turned out to be a lie; a stupid lab mistake.

When he pulled up to the street next to the Parkers’ apartment building, he put his head on the wheel and shut his eyes, counting under his breath to slow down his rapidly beating heart. This was seriously not good for his blood pressure, as Pepper would say. 

He still hadn’t told Pepper. Or Rhodey. Or hell, even Happy, who was tasked with watching the kid. The only ones who knew were him and FRIDAY.

“You can do this, Tony,” he muttered. “It’s not a senatorial hearing, it’s just a kid. You’ve taken on way worse.”

He got out, locked the car, waved to one teenager who gaped at him in disbelief, and marched towards the entrance.

He took the stairs, seeing as how there was a mother and her two kids, one of which was in a stroller, standing in wait for the elevator. When he got to the seventh floor—Peter’s floor—he paused to adjust his jacket and steady his breathing. Okay, cool, calm, collected. He could do this. He’d taken down crime syndicates, taken on super-powered monstrosities, flown a goddamned nuke through a inter-dimensional wormhole, and basically saved the world three times. Telling a fifteen year old kid he was said kid’s father? 

Cakewalk. 

Now, if only he could convince his nerves of that. Still, while inside he might be reeling, he sure as hell made sure not to show it when he knocked firmly on the Parkers’ door. All those lessons in dealing with public speaking and the media ought to at least count for something. 

May pulled open the door and nodded, having expected him. “Please come in, Peter’s in his room. Sit down, I’ll go fetch him. You have the papers?” She seemed nervous as she ushered him inside, and kept fiddling with her long necklace and reaching up to adjust her glasses or tug on her hair.

Tony held up the manila envelope that had, at this point, seen far better days. It was a good thing they were getting a second opinion. 

“Great. Good. Okay, let’s do this. Let’s…” She took a deep breath, let it out, then looked at him with far more composure than she had before. “United front, right?”

Tony could only nod. What the hell did he know about good parenting? The only positive parenting influence he had in his life was his mother and his butler, and neither of them had had to deal with a teenage superhero. Just a precocious super-genius.

Okay, maybe he did have at least some idea.

“Peter?” May called. “Peter, Mr. Stark is here. We’d like to talk to you now.”

A door down the corridor creaked open and Tony’s breath caught in his throat at the first face-to-face look at his son since the discovery of their connection. He was _not_ getting choked up, but he couldn’t help but find all the similarities he’d miraculously managed to overlook so far. The way Peter crinkled his brow was _just_ like Maria Stark, and the way he wrinkled his nose…shit, Tony knew he did that, he’d seen it in video footage before. There were other things he did, things Tony didn’t recognize that were clearly all Peter, or maybe passed down from his mother’s side, but by god, the more he watched, the more obvious it was. 

Peter was his son.

By the time Peter was seated on the couch, staring at them both curiously, Tony had zero doubts. Absolutely zero. He didn’t _need_ another paternity test. He _knew._

He swallowed and couldn’t tear his eyes away, until May gently reached over and extracted the manila envelope that had started it all from his tight-knuckled grip. “Peter, honey, Mr. Stark and I have some things we’d like to discuss with you.”

Peter stared at them both suspiciously, especially Tony. He kept shooting Tony strange looks, like he was trying to secretly communicate something, but it was just making him look slightly deranged. Tony raised both eyebrows incredulously, and Peter slunk back in his seat, defeated. He glanced at May. “Oh-_kay_.”

May seemed determined to do all the hard work, so Tony let her. She would probably be much more diplomatic anyway. He had a tendency of being too blunt, or sarcastic, or just generally blurting out the wrong thing at the wrong time. 

“Peter, you’re fifteen, so Mr. Stark and I thought it would be good to have an open, grown-up discussion about this with you. We feel you’re mature enough to handle the full truth and don’t want to hide anything, so I want you to know you can ask as many questions as you want, and we’ll do our best to answer them, alright?”

Peter was now looking almost frantically between them, and Tony belatedly realized that maybe Peter was afraid he’d told May about Spider-man. He tried to catch the kid’s eye, and then very slightly shook his head. His message must of gotten across, because Peter settled back, though he still looked nervous, if the way he picked at his jeans was any indication. “May, you’re kinda scaring me.”

May cleared her throat. “Sorry, hun. I promise it’s nothing bad, but it _is_ big news, and…”

Peter shot upright, eyes wide with alarm. “Oh my god, are you and Mr. Stark getting married?” 

Tony spluttered. May also choked. They looked at each other and spoke at the same time:

“What?”

“No!”

Peter squinted at them suspiciously. “Well then why are you both acting so _weird?_”

May slowly handed over the envelope and Peter took it with clear hesitation, like it was a bomb about to go off. Tony licked his lips and wondered if he should just blurt it out, but May beat him to it. “Peter, Mr. Stark discovered something very unexpected just the other day. We’ll explain the how and the why in a minute, but… you see, in the envelope is the result of a test, and that test means that… Well, at least we think it means that…”

Peter had undone the envelope and pulled out the papers while May was speaking and Tony couldn’t help but hold his breath as Peter looked down at the top page and read the words there clearly, despite the wrinkled, grubby state of the formally pristine paper. Before May could continue explaining, his eyes went wide and he blurted out, “Paternity _what?_” He shook the top paper, eyes wild. “What the hell is this?”

“Hey, language, mister,” exclaimed May quickly, but Peter gave her a flat look and she sighed. “It’s a paternity test, between you and Mr. Stark.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open. His eyes traveled to Tony, who tried to maintain eye contact, tried to keep an open face and not look like he was sick with anticipation on Peter’s reaction. He tried to smile. “Uh, surprise?”

Peter slowly looked between him, the test results, and May. “I… what? This… Is this some kind of joke? Ha, ha, Mr. Stark, Aunt May, not funny.”

May slowly shook her head. “It’s not a joke, Peter, neither of us are joking. Mr. Stark’s uh, A.I.?”

Tony interjected quickly. “Why don’t I explain this part?” At May’s nod, and despite Peter’s blank expression, he launched into a quick explanation of FRIDAY’s misguided actions, making sure to emphasize the fact that he _hadn’t known_, and that everyone involved was _very_ surprised. “We honestly have no way of knowing if the test is accurate, so that’s why we were going to ask if you wanted to do another one, where we can be sure the DNA is uncontaminated. I’ll do it myself, with equipment I have up at the Compound. If you want,” he added again. 

Peter blinked, looking a little dazed. “I…Okay…”

Suddenly, May got up and went to sit down next to Peter. She put her arm around his shoulders and Peter slumped against her, still staring at the papers in his hands. “Hey.” She waited patiently until he finally looked up. “Peter, sweetheart, I get this is very overwhelming, and a lot to take in. If you need some time to think about it, we’ll give you all the time you need, but we wanted you to know the truth. Mr. Stark wanted you to know the truth.”

Peter blinked rapidly and Tony realized, quite uncomfortably, that the kid might be about to cry. This was bad. He could not deal with crying teenagers. That was a big no. Especially not when they might be _his_ crying teenager. 

Oh god, he was a father. This was his kid. _His son!_

“I…I can go?” he offered carefully. Maybe now wasn’t a great time to bring up the whole tracker incident. He could…call Peter later, maybe. Or get Happy to do it. Poor kid still looked flummoxed. 

Suddenly, Peter sat upright and waved the papers around, expression turning accusatory. “It doesn’t make any sense! My dad was Richard Parker and my mom was married to him for ages before they had me! How can I possibly be…I mean, how can _Mr. Stark_ possibly be my father, it doesn’t make sense!”

Tony and May found themselves exchanging uncomfortable looks over Peter’s head. May’s expression seemed to say, ‘Well go on, this is your problem’. Tony took a deep breath. “Kid…_Peter,_ I’m still trying to figure that out myself. We both are. We don’t know any details, all I know is that my A.I. apparently sent my DNA and yours to be tested and these are the results. That’s why before we go any further, I think we should run a second test to be sure.”

Peter blinked at him and Tony hated to see that his eyes were pink-tinged. He tried not to let it show. “Okay, Mr. Stark. I… Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe it’s just…just a weird mistake.”

_It’s not a mistake,_ Tony wanted to say. Not when Peter clearly had the Stark nose and his mother’s mouth and Tony’s own mind and motor-mouth and self-sacrificing idiocy. The kid was so obviously, painfully _his_. His son. 

The idea was mind-boggling. He, Tony Stark, had helped make this singular, brilliant, bright, amazing human being. If not for Tony, Peter wouldn’t even _exist._ Maybe he really would leave behind a good legacy after all. He’d spent so long trying to do good in the world and repent for all those years spent selling weapons and partying like it was no tomorrow, and without even knowing it, he’d already done something so world-changing as to give life to this amazing kid. Peter would do great things, already was doing great things. The Stark legacy had hope.

Tony swallowed back a dozen emotions and managed to croak out, “I brought some stuff. We’ll do cheek swabs and I’ll take it up to the lab, get the results by tomorrow night.” At Peter’s raised eyebrows, Tony added defensively, “I’ve got the best equipment, kid, and it’s _fast._”

Still, there was something almost crushing about how hopeful Peter looked. Was the prospect of being Tony’s son really that horrible? Then again, he obviously sucked as a mentor, seeing as how Peter had already tried to sabotage the suit once, so maybe Peter was just imagining how bad a father he would be?

Well, if all Peter wanted was Iron Man as a mentor, Tony could do that. He could be whatever Peter wanted him to be. He was a man of many faces, after all.

He pulled two small, plastic wrapped tubes from his jacket pocket and ripped open the cover, handing one tube to Peter and keeping one for himself. “I’m sure you know the drill.”

Peter stared at the tube for a moment or two, before determinedly pulled out the swab stick and shoving it almost violently against the inside of his cheek. Tony winced, but just carefully did his own and sealed it off in the tube, taking Peter’s when he all but threw it at him and abruptly shot to his feet. 

“Can I go to my room now?”

May nodded, and Peter, still clutching the paternity test in one hand, practically fled to his room. Tony didn’t try to ask for it back, only held the two tubes of DNA and watched the door slam behind Peter. He turned his gaze to May, who only sighed. 

“Don’t take it personally. This is…a huge deal for Peter. I’m sure he just needs time to process. I think it will help to get more definitive results.” She stood slowly and came around the couch, waiting, and Tony knew the polite sign for ‘time to leave’ when he saw it. He stood slowly, reluctantly. 

“What do you think the results will be?” he asked quietly as he slipped the two tubes back inside his jacket pocket and did up the buttons.

May’s eyes flitted to his, then over to Peter’s closed door, then she swallowed and when she spoke her voice was hushed. “Honestly… Now that I’m looking…” she trailed off, but the meaning was clear. 

“Me too,” he admitted. His hand went to the pocket with the DNA samples, pressing down.

“He’ll come around,” May said again, softly. She hesitated, then put a hand on his arm and guided him towards the door. “I’m really grateful for how you’ve handled this, Mr. Stark. I’m going to be honest here, I didn’t have the best opinion of you before, but I think you’ve handled this with grace and sensitivity, and I’m glad you’re willing to step up and be whatever Peter needs you to be.” She cleared her throat, cheeks flushing as Tony shot her a surprised look. “What I’m trying to say is… Thank you, and I’m glad it’s you.”

Warmth spread down Tony’s chest and settled in his stomach and he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. He cleared his own throat. “Thanks. I’m…doing my best.”

May smiled back, warmly, as she leant against the door jam. “It shows. I’ll call.”

Tony nodded, and then the door closed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we get to see Peter's reaction to all this :D


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter needs some advice. Ned and MJ to the rescue

### IV.

“Dude, you look like you got run over by a bus.”

To be perfectly honest, Peter sure felt like he’d been run over by a bus—emotionally, that is. After yesterdays’s revelations, he’d spent the rest of the evening lying in bed, alternatively trying very hard not to think about Tony Stark, and then thinking about him all too much. 

Just…what the hell was he supposed to do or say in the face of…of _that?_

He’d read the paternity test papers a dozen times, and every time they were the same. 99.9% match. 

But how? Why? When? It didn’t make any _sense._

And…and if it were true…

Peter hadn’t really allowed himself to think that far ahead, because he was still trying to come to terms with the fact that maybe he wasn’t even Peter Parker. That maybe May wasn’t even really his aunt. That Uncle Ben…had never really been his uncle. And if that were the case, then…then Ben and May had wasted their lives taking care of some stranger’s kid that wasn’t even related to them. His uncle—_Ben_—had given his _life_ for a kid that wasn’t really his nephew and he probably never knew, not if what May said was true. 

The prospect, the idea, was so horrifying it made Peter sick to his stomach. He could barely let himself think of what it meant if Tony Stark was his father, because…because he couldn’t get past the thought of what it meant if he wasn’t Richard Parker’s son. 

“Peter? Pete, dude, seriously, you look like Luke Skywalker after Darth Vader tells him he’s his father. Please don’t start screaming ‘Nooooo!’ and throw yourself off any buildings.” Ned paused and waved a hand in front of Peter’s face, making him blink. “Peter? Okay, wow, this is bad. Starbase to Enterprise, come in! Come in!”

“Oh my god, total nerd,” said someone under their breath as they walked past, but Peter only blinked and finally put the rest of his books into his locker. He shut it slowly. 

“Uh, Peter, I’m pretty sure you have Chem in two periods and last I checked, you don’t have time to come get your book.”

Peter finally turned to stare at Ned. “What?”

Ned pointed at his locker. “Dude, you put away all the books you actually _need_ for the next few periods.”

Peter closed his eyes and tried not to curse. Wow. Okay. Deep breaths. He reached for the lock again. 

“You wanna tell me what’s up? This is weird, even for you.” Ned lowered his voice, eyes darting up and down the corridor. “Is it…you know? Did something happen?”

Peter paused as he removed the Chem book he’d just blindly stashed in his locker. “You could say that.”

Ned’s eyes widened. “What! What happened?”

The bell rung, and both Peter and Ned jerked in surprise. Great, and now he was late for class. “I’ll tell you at lunch.” When Ned opened his mouth to press the issue, Peter glared. “_Lunch,_ Ned.”

Lunch eventually rolled around with only a few minor incidents due to Peter’s distraction. By that point, Ned had tried three times to get Peter to talk and was all but vibrating in his seat. To be honest, so was Peter. He needed a second opinion, a second, _unbiased_ opinion. 

They sat at their usual table and it was only when Michelle suddenly plopped down not five feet away, that Peter realized maybe the cafeteria wasn’t the best place to discuss such sensitive news. Anyone could walk past or overhear. Michelle pulled out a book and proceeded to bury her nose in it, but Peter had little doubt her bat-like ears were perked. 

“Well? Peter, come on, you gotta tell me!”

Michelle’s book lowered slightly. Peter shoved at his sandwich and glanced around, biting his lip. “Maybe…maybe not here?”

“What?” Ned looked physically pained. “Come on, dude, I’ve been dying to know all morning!”

Peter gestured to their surroundings and whispered, “Ned, not where just anyone can overhear, okay?”

Michelle’s book slammed shut and both Peter and Ned jumped in their seats. She stared at them both blankly, and said, flatly, “Oh, don’t mind me, I’ll just be on my way, so you two can gossip like a pair of old ladies. Have fun.” She stood, abruptly and swung a leg back over the bench, book clutched tight in one hand. 

Peter’s mouth opened and shut. Michelle always insisted she ‘had no friends’ but, and maybe he was projecting, but, it seemed an awful lot like she was offended they weren’t including her. 

In all honesty, he needed to talk to Ned, his _best friend, _about this, but… Aw, hell, it wasn’t like Michelle didn’t have some pretty strong opinions herself, and she was definitely going to be unbiased about the situation… Besides, he didn’t _have_ to mention the Spider-man part of things. In fact, really, this had nothing to do with Spider-man at all. And if anyone could keep a secret…it was Michelle Jones.

“This is guy talk, okay?” Ned was telling an apathetic Michelle, who was now stepping away from the bench, when Peter shot to his feet and grabbed his lunch and the back of Ned’s hoodie at the same time.

“Come on, _both_ of you, we’re going somewhere else.”

Ned and Michelle both shot him startled looks, but Michelle was clearly intrigued enough to stop walking away and pivot on her heel. After a moment of deliberation, she stepped closer, reaching up to tuck a flop of curly hair behind one ear. “You know what, sure, whatever, I’ll bite. Not like I’ve got anything better to do.” She tapped her book nonchalantly against her thigh and waited, eyebrows raised.

“Peter, are you _sure?_” Ned asked, shooting a not-so-subtle look at Michelle as Peter continued to drag him around the table.

Peter quickly lowered his voice to a whisper as he ducked close to Ned’s ear. “It’s not about you-know-what, okay?” He carried on, walking quickly to the exit. If Michelle had noticed the whispered exchange, she said nothing, just picked up her bag and trailed after them.

Eventually, they found an empty classroom, after checking first the art room, then the band room, and finally the physics room along the way. 

“What’s this about?” Michelle asked after they were seated at one of the lab tables. Maybe she’d sensed the seriousness of the talk, because she’d put her book away and was sitting there with empty hands and one-hundred percent of her attention on him, actually looking like she was interested for once. Peter gulped. One-hundred percent of Michelle’s attention was like being pinned down by a tiger hungry for its next meal.

“Yeah, why have you been acting like a weirdo all morning,” Ned added.

First things first. “Both of you, promise you won’t say anything about what I’m about to tell you.”

Ned was quick to promise, and Peter turned to Michelle, who had laced her fingers together and rested her chin on them. She looked contemplative. “So, big secret, do I care enough to be here?”

Peter made an impatient noise. “Look, I need to tell _someone_ and I need advice.”

Michelle tilted her chin. “Well, I can give good advice.” She sat up, eyes piercing. “Alright, you have my attention.”

“You didn’t promise,” Ned pointed out quickly and Michelle rolled her eyes. 

“Dorks. It was implied.” When Ned only glared and Peter waited as his best friend fought the good fight, she exhaled loudly and threw up a hand. “Jeez, fine, I promise. Happy?”

Ned crossed his arms. “Ecstatic.” He twisted on his stool to face Peter, expression now nothing but open curiosity. “Okay, dude, spill!”

Peter took a deep breath, thought about how to word it, and ended up blurting out, “YesterdayTonyStarkcametoourapartmentandtoldmeI’mhisson.”

He was met with two blank stares. Then Michelle slowly held up a finger and closed her eyes, mouth pursing. “Okay, hold on. Yesterday, Tony Stark, _the _Tony Stark, did _what?_”

Peter rubbed his arm and tugged on his jacket sleeves. “Um…came over, and…he, uh, had this paternity test, and…told me…I’m…I’m his _son. _Like, _for real._”

Ned’s mouth hung open. He hadn’t looked this shocked since the time Peter had crawled into his room via the ceiling and Ned had witnessed him take off his Spider-man mask and reveal his superhero identity. Actually, if anything, Ned looked even _more_ shocked.

Michelle was also staring, but both her eyebrows were half-way up her forehead and she looked far more contemplative. “Seriously? Like, seriously, seriously?”

Peter nodded rapidly. “Seriously!”

She pursed her lips, eyes squinting. “You _sure_ it’s not some weird publicity stunt?”

Peter frowned. “What? No. No way, why would Mr. Stark—”

“DUDE, OH MY GOD!”

Both Peter and Michelle startled and Peter definitely jumped a foot from his seat. He grabbed at the counter to stabilize himself and put a hand over his racing heart to calm it down. “Jeez!”

Ned grabbed the edge of his seat and his whole body shook. His eyes were as wide as they could get. “Ned,” Michelle began crossly, but Ned’s expression was impossibly gleeful and his voice only rose in volume.  


“PETER, OH MY GOD THIS IS LIKE THE MOST AMAZING THING EVER! TONY STARK IS YOUR DAD!? IRON MAN? _THE _TONY STARK?”

“NED!” Michelle slammed both hands on the table, startling Ned out of his loud babbling, and leaned forward, nostrils flaring. “Keep your voice down, idiot. Or do you _want_ half the school to know by the end of lunch?”

Ned squeaked and clamped a hand over his mouth, leaning back with wide eyes. “B-but…_Tony Stark_,” he whispered reverently. “That’s so impossibly _cool_.”

Michelle turned back to Peter. “Peter, are you okay? I mean, Tony Stark really came to your house yesterday and basically said,”

“Luke, I am your father!” Ned quoted gleefully, cutting her off. “Uh, except, you know, Tony Stark is totally a good guy, not a super-villain. Man, this is awesome.” He reached out and grabbed Peter’s arms. “I can’t believe I’m like, best friends with Iron Man’s kid…” His eyes went wide. “Oh my god, this explains so much about…”

Peter cut frantic, meaningful looks over to Michelle, who was now staring at them both suspiciously, and Ned, following his gaze, went red and dropped Peter’s arms. “Uh, I mean, cause you’re so smart and stuff, and you got the Stark Internship, you know. Wait…did he _know_, is that why?”

“No!” Peter burst out quickly. “He…he said he had no idea, that he just found out because…uh…his A.I. sent our DNA to be tested?” At both Ned and Michelle’s astonished faces, he shrugged. “Apparently there was some weird A.I. logic involved, but basically he’s gonna run another test to be sure, but…” He swallowed. “If…if it’s true…what…what am I supposed to _do?_”

“Do?” Ned squeaked. “Uh, throw a party, obviously. We’re gonna be the coolest kids in the whole school now. Flash is gonna eat his own words. Serves him right.”

Michelle waved a disgruntled hand at Ned, “Not now, Leeds. Peter.” She gave Peter a serious look and he straightened, waiting. “Obviously, this is a shock, and _obviously_,” here, she shot Ned another look, “you have some reservations about this discovery. So, what’s the problem? You don’t like Stark? He’s trying to hush it up? Pay you off?” She leaned forward, eyes glinting with anticipation. “Because I’m telling you, don’t sign _anything_ without a lawyer present.”

Peter sat up even straighter and waved his hands. “What? No! Of course not, Mr. Stark’s great! He’s…” He swallowed thickly. “He’s real great, it’s just…”

Michelle was eyeing him knowingly. “Just what?”

Peter tugged at his sweater and stared down at the black tabletop. “If…if it’s true, then… Then Aunt May and Uncle Ben…they’re not really my aunt and uncle and…what if May doesn’t want me anymore? And Uncle Ben… He never knew the truth and he…he still protected me thinking that…”

“Okay, stopping you right there, Parker.” Michelle held up a hand and waved at him to be quiet. Peter’s mouth clicked shut and he exchanged a glance with Ned.

Michelle smirked. “First of all, you’re being ridiculous. Why would your aunt and uncle even care? You saying you’re only family if you’re blood related? Let me tell you, blood doesn’t mean shit, okay? And Tony Stark being your blood doesn’t mean shit unless you want it to.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open, then shut when Michelle held up a finger for silence. Next to him, Ned also closed his mouth, the beginnings of a protest clear on his face. He slumped down, arms crossing petulantly. 

Michelle pursed her lips. “Your aunt and uncle didn’t have to take you in, but they did, and you shouldn’t try to cheapen that choice by saying that they only did it because you were blood. Trust me, don’t go there.” She held up another finger. “Okay, and second? She’s not gonna kick you out. That’s stupid. Don’t be stupid, Peter. Apparently, you’re the son of a super-genius, so that excuse won’t fly with me.” 

She shot another quelling look at Ned when it looked like he was about to chime in and he sat back again with a huff. She held up a third finger. “Finally, it’s entirely up to you what you want to do with this information. If Tony Stark isn’t trying anything funny, then _you_ get to decide what it means that he apparently donated to half your gene-pool, got it? You wanna call him ‘Dad’, that’s up to you, or if you wanna tell him to get lost, that’s also up to you. Your choice.”

“Are you crazy!” Ned burst out, apparently unable to stay silent any longer. “It’s Tony Stark! Who _wouldn’t _want Tony Stark as a dad? That is literally like, every nerd’s _dream_ dad!” He turned to Peter, expression fierce. “Peter, dude, please tell me you’re keeping him?”

Michelle rolled her eyes and Peter choked on a laugh. Ned made it sound like Tony Stark was some kind of stray dog. Though, he had to admit, Ned had a point. If this were anyone else who’d said that Tony Stark had come to them and said ‘Hey, I’m your dad, surprise’, he’d be bouncing off the walls from second-hand excitement. And when he thought about it…Tony Stark was…well…his _idol_. He was a superhero and a genius, and a billionaire and _so cool_ and just basically everything Peter had always aspired to be. And if it were _true,_ and Tony Stark was honest-to-god his actual _dad…_

His mouth opened and shut. He swallowed. “That’s…I mean, it’s like a crazy dream, but…”

Michelle leaned forward, a sympathetic expression on her face (not something they saw often, if ever, really). “Peter, don’t push yourself. You found out yesterday? You need time to think about it.” Her voice turned fierce again, “And remember, none of this means you don’t still get to be Peter Parker, okay? You’re no different today than you were yesterday or the day before. It just means you get to decide if you want one more adult influence in your life. Remember,” she pointed imperiously, “_your choice._”

Peter looked at Michelle and wondered how someone who was so fierce and mature and downright _scary_ could give such amazing advice and make him feel better while basically threatening him. Scary, but awesome. And kinda hot. 

He blinked. Okay. Bad thoughts. Not, now, stupid teenage hormones. Not the time. 

“Uhhh, thanks, Michelle.”

Michelle leaned back, looking like the cat that caught the canary. Next to him, Ned shuddered. He eyed Michelle warily, as if waiting for her to chastise him again, but when she merely lounged back and watched them through lidded eyes, Ned sat up straighter and reached a hand for Peter’s shoulder. He gave it a comforting pat. “Michelle’s right, dude. Doesn’t mean you have to give up your aunt or your uncle, or even your parents. It just means you get to call Iron Man ‘Dad’ and totally ask for Iron Man armor for your birthday, like, think of the possibilities!”

Michelle rolled her eyes. Peter smiled weakly. “Yeah, that would be pretty cool, I guess.”

He still wasn’t sure about this whole ‘Dad’ business, but… the way Michelle put it made it sound a lot less scary. He didn’t _have_ to give up who he was, and this didn’t change who he was… Uncle Ben could still be his Uncle Ben, and he could still miss him and think of the memories they had together and know they had been real and special. Aunt May could still be his Aunt May, who tried so hard to learn to cook for him, even if she wasn’t very good, and always ordered his favorite take-out when he was down because she wanted to cheer him up. 

Both Michelle and Ned were right. He didn’t have to _lose_ anything, he was just, as they said, _gaining_ something—some_one._

Then, Ned added, “Also, as your official best friend for life, does this mean I get to meet the parents?”

Peter thumped his head on the table. “Ned, _no._”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characterizing Peter is a lot harder than Tony, for some reason. Characterizing Ned is even harder. Also, since MJ is my spirit animal, I had to throw her in, so hopefully it didn't seem too forced, but I couldn't leave her out :D
> 
> Also, thank you all for the lovely comments. I do read them all and appreciate any and all feedback.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony gets the results. They talk. Awkwardly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is about where I start trying to cram lots of tropes in Because I Can. In this one we get Awkward Family Dinner™

### V.

By the next day, Tony had convinced himself it didn’t matter about Peter’s reaction, because no matter what, he’d be there for the kid. Behind the scenes or openly, whatever it took. He also spent an anxious night waiting for the DNA test results to process in the lab, after having kicked out all other personnel…and also while fielding multiple calls from Happy and Pepper.

Pepper, not one to be so easily ignored, had come all the way to the Compound and dragged him out for an interrogative dinner, and then once again for breakfast, probably hoping he’d spill the beans, but Tony kept his lips sealed. He needed to be the first to know, before he told anyone else. Just…just in case. 

Not that he didn’t expect to see the positive result when it finally did print out. He’d already known, this was just confirmation.

He thought about sending it by email, or text, but a small, selfish part of him wanted to be the one to hand the results to Peter personally and watch him take in the truth. Even if it hurt when Peter rejected him, as he no doubt would, judging from yesterday’s reaction.

Also, he still hadn’t talked to the kid about the damn tracker. Before he left the Compound, he found some spare parts and cobbled together another tracker and some accompanying code that would send an alert to FRIDAY the second the tracker got disengaged, which he fully planned on installing in Peter’s suit the moment he got his hands on it. 

Then he hopped in his favorite Audi and headed into the city.

He had time to school his expressions and shore up his heart on the way there. Whatever Peter decided, he was going to be completely cool with it. Except for the tracker—that was non-negotiable.

Of course, apparently he failed to take into account the fact that May would be at work and Peter was clearly _not home_, because he stood outside the door for five minutes and no one came to answer. He fished his phone out of his pocket and dialed May’s number, only to get voicemail. He hesitated before trying to connect to Peter instead.

He noticed immediately that the call re-routed to the suit per his built-in protocols and narrowed his eyes. Maybe now _was_ a good time to talk about the tracker.

The kid wasn’t picking up. Fine. “FRIDAY, push the call through.”

The ringing stopped and the line connected and Tony heard Peter cut-off mid-word and exclaim, “Whoa, what? Who…Mr. Stark, what the hell?”

Tony scowled down at his phone as he leant against the door. “Language. Where are you?”

Peter looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Uhhh…”

Tony rolled his eyes. “I know you’re in the suit, Peter, and I also know you took out the tracker, so why don’t you web-swing your way back home because I have a present.” He fished the new tracker out of his pocket and held it up in front of the phone’s camera. “It’s a brand new tracker just for you.”

First, Peter had paled, then he had flushed, either angry or embarrassed to be caught, but whatever it started as, it definitely ended with defensiveness and spluttering. “I… Look…I mean, I was just… I just wanted to…”

“Save it,” Tony interrupted. “We’re not doing this over the phone. I have the tracker, I have the test results, so get your ass back here pronto, kid.”

“You watch _your_ language,” he heard the kid mutter under his breath, sounding way too petulant for Tony’s tastes. He rubbed his forehead and valiantly didn’t snap back. Teenagers. Jeez. 

After a momentary pause, Peter tried one last time, eyes darting around shiftily. “Uhh, look Mr. Stark, can we, like, do this later, maybe? Just…”

“Yeah, no, ‘fraid not. You come back now or I’m calling your aunt.” Never mind that he couldn’t get ahold of her currently, he was Tony Stark, he’d find a way. Fortunately, Peter didn’t call his bluff, because he scowled heavily, then his features shifted to resignation and his face bobbed like he was nodding.

It was only after Peter had agreed and hung up, that Tony realized with growing horror that he sounded just like one of those PTA parents from the T.V. What on earth was his life coming to that Iron Man had to resort to threats like, ‘or I’m calling your aunt’?

In the fifteen minutes it took Peter to swing his way back home, land in his room and come open the door, Tony was gaped at by no less than three people going to and from their apartments and trying to figure out why the hell Tony Stark (or a very good look-alike) was standing outside the door to number 705. He spared a moment to worry about paparazzi, but with Peter already on the way, he wasn’t about to reschedule, so he waited until the door opened, then pushed his way inside and tore off his sunglasses. “So, pretty sure you’re now the talk of the building, considering how long you let me wait out there.”

Peter’s eyes popped out. “Oh my god, Mr. Stark, I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t find my backpack where I left it, and then I found it in the dumpster and someone stole my left-over lunch money, which…who steals five dollars, I mean, come _on, _that’s just sad. Five dollars!” He waved an energetic arm around and Tony took a step back to avoid getting clobbered. 

The important thing was that first, someone had stolen Peter’s lunch money, and no kid of his would go hungry, and second, apparently Peter just left his backpack lying around to _be _stolen. That was an issue for another time, the first, he could solve. He fished his sleek, Italian-leather wallet out of his pocket and dug around, but could only find Benjamins. Well, at least he wouldn’t have to give the kid lunch money for more than a few months, right? He folded a few into Peter’s hand. “Here, more lunch money, now don’t sweat it.”

Peter gaped at the three hundred dollars in his hands and spluttered. “Th-that’s way too much! I can’t take this!” He tried to shove the money back into Tony’s hand, but Tony held his palms out of the way and quickly stepped around him, slipping the wallet back into his pocket. 

“Too late. It’s yours. Make sure you’re eating enough. Treat your friends.” His eyes strayed to Peter’s bare feet. “Maybe some shoes.”

He expected Peter to protest some more and turned around, eyebrows cocked, ready to fire back a witty one-liner, but Peter was just standing there, in his slightly oversized hoodie and jeans, feet bare, looking waif-like, staring at the money in his hand with a furrowed brow. Slowly, he looked up at Tony, then down at the money, and then down at his feet, where he wiggled his bare toes. “You’re giving me money.”

Tony shifted from foot to foot. “Obviously. Try not to lose it.”

Peter rocked back on his feet and looked around the apartment, everywhere but at Tony. “If you’re giving me _money_…does that mean…”

Tony swallowed. Right. The results. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the folded papers, still hot off the press. “Yeah, kid.” 

Hesitantly, Peter stepped forward and slid the papers out of his hand. He held them like a poisonous snake, pulling at the edges to unfold them like they might leap up and bite him. Tony watched, heart in his throat. The kid was so expressive, as his face scrunched up, then his eyes widened only a little, like he’d been expecting to find the positive match. His expression smoothed into something nervous and tentative. He looked up slowly. “It…It’s official?”

Tony shoved both hands in his pockets and cleared his throat gruffly. “Yeah. It’s official.”

Peter looked a little stunned. “Oh.”

The awkward tension was rising, and May wasn’t here to diffuse it, so Tony may have unwisely decided to change the subject, but he couldn’t take standing there much longer while Peter looked so lost. “Right, well, don’t think you’re getting out of that conversation I promised you.”

Peter’s brow scrunched and then suddenly, he seemed to remember the second reason why Tony was here, and his mouth dropped down into a pout. He paced to the side and back, gesturing with his whole body. “Okay, look, you didn’t believe me the first time, and I just wanted to prove I wasn’t lying or making it up, and I knew you would tell me not to, but this was _important_ and people coulda got hurt if I didn’t find out the truth, so—”

“Whoa!” Tony held up both hands and stepped forward to halt the fast babble and frenetic movement. “Slow down, first, what are you talking about? Kid, I believe you, whatever it is. And second? You’re the kid, I’m the adult. _You_ don’t get to decide what’s important, _I _do, capisce?” He gestured between them to illustrate his point and Peter stared at him with goggly-eyes. His mouth opened and shut. 

“You…you believe me? About the weapons?”

Tony let out an explosive sigh and tried not to pinch his brow. Was that a tension headache? Stress headache? Was there such a thing as a teenager-induced headache? “Of course I do! Why do you think I told you to stay away? Because it’s dangerous, and way above your pay grade, and that’s why I’ve turned it over to the Feds. They know what’s up and they’re dealing with it, so I want you to just sit your little spider butt on the sidelines and let them do their jobs.” He pointed again. “And don’t even think of sticking your nose back in there. These guys are trained professionals, they do this all the time, they know what they’re up against, and they don’t need an untrained kid coming in and messing up all their plans.” 

As Peter’s crestfallen look melted quickly into indignant anger, Tony reached out soothingly, stepping closer. One hand hovered near Peter’s shoulder, but he wasn’t sure if he should touch—was _allowed_ to touch. “Peter, you’re a good kid and you’ve got some amazing powers, but that doesn’t negate the fact that the Feds have years of training for exactly these situations and you’ve had exactly zero training, okay? Maybe one day you can, but not yet, and definitely not before you graduate high school and go to college!” He dared to clasp Peter’s shoulder for just a moment, then pulled back and straightened his jacket. “You nearly _died_ last time, and I am _not_ ready to have that on my conscience. You…” Tony felt his throat close up before he could continue. He had to clear it. “You’re more important and you have a bright future ahead of you, so _promise me_ that you won’t go after these guys!” 

Peter’s mouth was open and he looked flummoxed. The anger had drained to something that looked a little too much like awe and it made Tony uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry!” 

Tony blinked at the loud volume. Peter flushed and rocked back on his heels. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m… I thought…I thought you didn’t believe me, and…I was just trying to find proof, do the right thing.”

Tony rubbed his neck. “Look kid, sometimes the right thing is turning the problem over to someone more equipped to handle it. It’s called delegation, even I do it. You think I handle everything by myself? Hell no. I have people, specially trained people, that handle all sorts of problems for me.”

He hoped to god he was getting through to the kid, because the thought of him facing those types of weapons again, of plunging to his death or being vaporized by alien tech, made him feel sick to his stomach. Peter was too vibrant, too _good_. And Tony was absolutely certain he would never, ever forgive himself if something happened to him. 

He firmed his expression and stepped closer. “Which is why I’m putting the tracker back in your suit, right now, and you are _never_ taking it out again.”

Peter’s expression went guilty and he scuffed a foot on the carpet, toes curling. “Um.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Come on, don’t got all day here. Suit, now.”

Peter scrambled for his room. Tony’s shoulders sagged. Dear god, dealing with teenagers was _exhausting._ Especially ones that apparently didn’t like to listen to their elders who clearly knew better than them. 

He walked over to the couch and collapsed down with a weary sigh. He leaned back and closed his eyes and tried not to think about his headache—mostly a product of a sleepless night. And worry. Was it possible to get a headache from worry? 

“Mr. Stark! Here you go!” 

Tony opened his eyes just in time to see a curtain of red and blue come sailing through air and impact the coffee table, knocking over a box of tissues and the t.v. remote. Tony raised an unimpressed eyebrow as Peter vaulted over the back of the couch with the envious nimbleness of youth combined with superpowers, and the kid looked back, sheepish. “Whoops.”

Tony snatched up the suit, and pulled a compact case from his pocket. It had miniature versions of all his best tools, ready to make minor repairs on his wrist gauntlets or for fast and dirty work on the suit, if it ever came to that. After all the times he’d been caught out in the past, he knew it paid to be prepared.

Right now, he took out a set of tweezers, and a tiny glue bottle and solder and quickly flipped the suit inside out as Peter perched on the couch like a bird and watched with fascination. It was immediately obvious where the kid had stripped out the original tracker and he quickly set to work fitting in the new one and reconnecting the wires. “_This,_” he emphasized, as he worked, “does not come out. It stays. If I find out you’ve removed this one, the suit is gone.” At Peter’s indignant gasp, he looked up. “I’m serious, you mess with it, I take it back. We clear?”

The expression on the kid’s face was almost priceless, but Tony wasn’t budging. He stared back resolutely, until Peter slumped against the back of the couch. “Yeah, okay, I won’t touch it.”

“Promise me.”

“_Promise._”

Tony pointed with his tweezers. “I’m holding you to that.”

Peter suddenly looked guilty and Tony narrowed his eyes, but the kid just nodded and twiddled his thumbs, so he got back to work, quickly plugging in his phone to adjust the code and run a diagnostic on the suit to make sure the tracker was fully integrated with all the appropriate failsafes. That was when he discovered the TrainingWheelsProtocol had been deactivated. His jaw twitched. He took a deep, calming breath, then looked up slowly, so that Peter would have time to realize he should be admitting something very important. Sure enough, the kid’s expression was classic deer caught in the headlights. 

“Is there something _else_ you’d like to tell me? No? Going once, going twice, and—”

“I’mreallysorryIhadNedturnoffthetrainingprotocolpleasedon’ttakethesuitaway!”

Tony closed his eyes and counted slowly, each breath. He heard Peter shuffled nervously on the couch and make a distressed noise. More quietly, he whispered, “Mr. Stark, sir, I’m really sorry. I just…I just wanted to show you I could handle it…and I can! Karen’s awesome, she really helps me out and…and I couldn’t have saved my friends if I hadn’t turned it off!”

He was begging now, leaning forward, half dangling over the arm of the couch, eyes wide and beseeching. Tony turned his head back to the report on his phone and carefully disconnected it, tucking the USB port back into the seams of the suit and flipping it right-side-out again. All the while, Peter’s nervous energy was a palpable thing hovering next to him.

He tried to keep his voice level, because he was _not_ going to be his father, he wasn’t. He was going to be a reasonable adult. Deep breaths. “That protocol was there _for a reason._ It was meant to be a gradual thing. As you got more experienced, it would allow you to unlock different features, _slowly,_ so that you’d have time to get used to them.”

Peter picked at his nails, one leg bouncing underneath him and the other perfectly still. His eyes were wide and doe-like and damn, but it was difficult to look at his face and not want to buy him something to cheer him up. That face was dangerous.

“I know, I’m sorry, but…” And here came the _buts._ Wow, he was getting pretty good at predicting teenage behavior by now. Peter carried on oblivious to Tony’s inner lamentation, “I’m not stupid, okay, and I pick things up quick. I got a handle on this now, I promise, and…seriously, if it weren’t for unlocking the protocol, I never would have reached my friends in time, you gotta believe me.” The beseeching tone, the puppy eyes. Was this why parents always bent over backwards for their kids? Since when had any of this nonsense ever affected him?

Tony huffed, peeling his eyes away from that puppy face to regain some equilibrium. “Kid, the _only_ reason I’m giving you another chance here is because your argument actually holds some water. I believe you, but that doesn’t mean I’m not angry you went behind my back, or that you broke your promise—”

“Uh, never promised I wouldn’t mess with the suit. _Technically_.”

“Adult. Talking. Zip it.” Peter’s mouth snapped shut and Tony now kept deliberate eye contact. “I am _angry_ that you put your life at _risk_ after I told you not to. Instead of coming to me with your concerns you—”

Peter, who obviously had a penchant for interrupting people as they spoke, couldn’t seem to contain himself and burst out, “But I tried! The first time! And you didn’t believe me, and Happy didn’t believe me!”

Tony flung an arm out towards the window. “I believed you enough to call in the big guns and if you’d _listened_ to me, we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now!”

Peter jumped to his feet, face scrunched and red. His fists balled at his sides. “Well, you sure didn’t seem like you did!”

Oh hell no, Peter did not get to try for the height advantage. Tony climbed to his feet, suit balled in one hand. “Then instead of running off half-cocked and _messing with my tech_ you should have called me and asked!”

“CALLED YOU HOW!” Peter bellowed. “Happy never answers my texts and I don’t even have your number!”

Tony stepped back, stunned, and fell back down onto the couch. He felt a flash of shame as he realized that no, he’d never directly given Peter his number, and yes, he’d told him to report to Happy, but Happy was currently a very busy man coordinating the move and didn’t have time to respond to every little text Peter sent. And yeah, Happy forwarded Tony a report every week, but Peter didn’t know that. Peter clearly had no idea how _much_ attention Tony paid to his every move.

He ran a hand down his face and wondered how it was possible to screw up so badly. “Okay,” he muttered into his hand. He lifted his head in time to see Peter hesitantly sit down, face still blotchy from anger, but his shoulders slumped and his fists lax. He was watching Tony with wary eyes, as if waiting for the backlash. Tony felt like an even bigger failure. 

He was not cut out for this. Apparently, he couldn’t even mentor properly, let alone _parent_ properly.

First things first. He picked up his phone and hit dial on Peter’s number. A few delayed seconds later, and the ringing picked up from Peter’s pocket. Fumbling to reach his back pocket (seriously what was with kids, didn’t they know sitting on their damn phones warped the glass?), the kid drew it out and glanced down with confusion. “That’s my personal cell number,” Tony explained as he hung up. “Save it.”

Peter’s eyes were wide, but he did as instructed. 

“From now on, you text or call me the moment you have any concerns. Don’t take things into your own hands, you consult with me _first._”

Peter’s mouth opened and shut. His eyes were shining. “I…really? I…I can text or call you, anytime?”

“Anytime, Underoos.”

His eyes now squinted, like a fox. “Even at, like, midnight, or two a.m., or four a.m., or—”

Tony was regretting this already, and cut him off, “Anytime means anytime.”

“Wow.”

“But!” Tony held up a warning finger. If he was going to be subjected to Peter’s incessant texting twenty-four-seven, he’d better at least get some concessions out of it. “Remember, that means you come to me first. You ask _permission_ before you run off to do something that could be potentially dangerous and if I say to drop it, you drop it.”

“But—”

“Between the two of us, which of us has years of experience? Me. I do. So if I say it’s too dangerous, you pull back. No ifs, no buts, you do it, or I take away the suit.”

It was like playing good cop, bad cop all by yourself. First he gave the kid a bone, then he took it away.

“I want your promise,” Tony pressed, when Peter looked stubbornly like he might argue. Whatever the kid had to say, he didn’t want to hear it. Probably some fringe argument that would start with ‘But what if…’ and end in disaster. He held up the suit, but kept it out of reach. “Promise, or no suit.”

“Fine,” Peter agreed sulkily. “I promise.”

Tony tossed him the suit. God, he was regretting it already. “Good.”

And then the key rattled in the lock and both of them froze for a split second. Peter shot to his feet and Tony stumbled to his. They exchanged one single fearful look of camaraderie. 

“Hide the suit!”

“Yep!” Peter summersaulted backwards over the couch.

By the time Tony turned around to greet May as she came through the door, Peter was already slamming his bedroom door behind him, the suit having miraculously disappeared.

“May, hi!”

Tony waved. 

May looked between the two of them suspiciously, and for a moment Tony feared he’d really overstepped his bounds and May would kick him out. She had every right to, he thought with a twinge of guilt. Miraculously, she just sighed, dropped her keys on the hall table and hung up her purse. “Great. Now there’s two of you. I suppose you’ll want feeding as well?”

Tony glanced sideways at Peter, who shook his head quickly and mouthed, ‘No, no, mayday, mayday’ and made slashing motions with his hands. He immediately dropped the pose the moment May looked up from kicking off her shoes. Tony remember the walnut-date bread and how truly awful it had been, so he stepped forward with his patented media smile and said, “Actually, May, I was just going to offer to take you both out to dinner. I think it’s only fair I pull my own weight around here, considering.”

May walked slowly towards them, eyes darting between them. “So you got the results?” They both nodded. She clasped her hands. “_And?_”

“Well…” Peter scuffed a foot and fell silent.

Tony sighed. “It’s official.”

May slowly sank down into the closest chair. “Wow. Okay. So, this is happening, huh? Like, really happening?”

“Dinner?” Tony offered quickly. 

May hesitated. “Only if we order in.”

* * *

Peter had been to awkward dinners before. There was one memorable time when May’s cousin had come to visit and gone on a rant about religion and politics that was the complete opposite of everything Ben and May believed in. Peter had had to sit there quietly and try not to die of secondhand shame as all the adults at the table stared at their plates and tried to pretend the last ten minutes had never happened. So yeah, Peter knew awkward family dinners, but by god did this one take the cake. 

After all, May’s older cousin from Pennsylvania was about ten degrees removed from genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, _superhero_ Tony Stark. Even if, you know, apparently, said genius billionaire superhero was actually Peter’s father. 

Still. Reeling. For the record. 

He’d half expected it to be true, but to be honest there had still been a part of him that had imagined Mr. Stark would walk through the door, smile sheepishly, and hand him some papers that declared it all a big mistake. Mr. Stark would have said, “Sorry, kid, it’s a nice thought, but not to be. But we can still be friends!” and Peter would have replied, “That sounds awesome, Mr. Stark, thanks!” and then Mr. Stark would have totally invited him to the Avengers Compound to hang out and stuff. The end, and they all lived happily ever after. 

Instead, Mr. Stark had dragged him away from patrol, calmly destroyed every ounce of self-identity he still had left, and then yelled at him about messing with the suit and threatened to take it away. Which sounded awful, except for the last part, where Mr. Stark had totally given Peter his real phone number and said he could call. Anytime. Day or night. Peter Parker had Tony Stark’s _personal number_ in his phone and blanket permission to text as much as he wanted.

If not for the whole ‘destruction of self-identity’ thing, Peter would have been over the moon. Okay, fine, he was still over the moon and valiantly ignoring dealing with the whole ‘Tony Stark is actually your dad’ part of the equation. Too much, too soon, as Michelle would say. He needed time to _process._

Except now there was the awkward family dinner. Mr. Stark had ordered Thai (Peter’s current favorite) and paid for the whole thing (speaking of which, he still had three hundred dollars stuffed in his pocket he needed to give back because _what the hell, Mr. Stark, major overkill_), and now they all sat around the dining room table making really, really awkward conversation. 

It was painful. 

Obviously, Tony Stark did not know how to have family dinner, and May apparently didn’t know what to say to Tony Stark because he was _Tony Stark_ and, well, the only thing Peter really wanted to discuss with him right now pertained to things best left unmentioned in front of May, which didn’t leave a lot else to talk about.

Until Mr. Stark started asking Peter about his personal likes and dislikes like the most cliché ‘trying to get to know you’ sequence ever scripted. The most awkward part was the way Mr. Stark sounded like this was the first time he’d ever asked someone these questions. “So, Peter, uh, what’s your favorite subject?”

Since Mr. Stark was facing Peter, trying too hard to look attentively interested, but Peter was facing both Mr. Stark and Aunt May equally, Aunt May used the opportunity to make encouraging faces at him that hopefully Mr. Stark couldn’t see. Peter tried not to draw attention to it by looking in her direction. _May, stop, oh my god._ He wanted sink into the floor and never emerge.

“Oh, uh, chemistry. Or physics. Wait, and photography.”

Mr. Stark blinked at the last one, like he wasn’t expecting it. “Photography?”

Peter shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a hobby.” 

He expected Mr. Stark to drop it, but he didn’t. Instead he leaned forward and appeared, bizarrely enough, genuinely interested now. “You have your own camera?”

“Well, I have my phone, and,” he hesitated, glancing at May, but she only smiled encouragingly, so he plowed on, “Uncle Ben’s old camera.”

Mr. Stark’s chopsticks paused half-way to his mouth. “Oh.” He tried for a smile. “Well, sounds fun. You’ll have to show me sometime. It’s good to have hobbies.” Pausing, he added, ruefully, “Healthy hobbies.”

Okay, how was this his life? How was it that Tony Stark was sitting at his dingy kitchen table, with the sleeves of his expensive, tailored shirt rolled up, silk tie draped across the back of his chair, eating lukewarm Thai take-out and asking to see his amateur photos? Right, because a piece of paper said they were a DNA match, and…and apparently that meant enough to Tony Stark to want to sit at Peter’s dingy kitchen table, eat lukewarm Thai take-out and ask to see his amateur photos. And also try (badly) to give him advice about ‘healthy hobbies’. 

He ducked his head, feeling his neck warm as he poked at a fat rice noodle. At least the man seemed like he was trying, right? That was definitely better than him walking out, or making him sign NDAs or something. Peter stabbed harder at the noodle. 

“Wow, what did that poor noodle ever do to you?” Peter looked up guiltily and May raised both eyebrows in response and pointed with a chopstick. “If all you’re gonna do is murder the poor thing, then let me put it out of its misery, mister.”

Tony Stark watched this byplay with interest, especially when Peter pulled his noodles closer defensively, and May made a feint for one. Peter fended off her attempt with his own chopsticks and was triumphant. He stuck his tongue out at May, who grinned.

He wondered whether Mr. Stark thought they were weirdos or if he and Miss Potts also tried to steal each other’s food. It was a thing families did, normally, and hadn’t they been dating for a while? 

Peter didn’t exactly follow the latest gossip, but it was really hard to avoid details about Tony Stark’s life considering how much media attention he got all the time. 

He chewed a noodle contemplatively and hoped that didn’t mean people would start following him with cameras. Why would they? He wasn’t particularly special (if you didn’t know about Spider-man, of course), so he should be safe, right?

Mr. Stark suddenly cleared his throat. Peter and May both looked up, May with a mouthful of rice and Peter with half a noodle dangling from his mouth. He quickly finished chewing because Mr. Stark was giving him a _look_ that clearly said he was surrounded by plebeians and suffering for it.

“I wanted to talk about…moving forward.” Mr. Stark glanced between May and Peter, and finally settled rather unnervingly on Peter. “Specifically, Peter, I want to know what you want to do about this…uh, situation?”

Peter swallowed and licked his lips. Way to put him on the spot, thanks, Mr. Stark. Was Mr. Stark even still Mr. Stark? Oh god, was he supposed to start calling him ‘Dad’ now? He reached for his soda and took a big gulp, then started coughing.

“Okay, Pete, take your time.” Aunt May looked just a bit concerned.

Peter cleared his throat. Mr. Stark looked at him expectantly. He picked at the tab on his soda can. “What do _you_ want to do, Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark appeared like he’d swallowed a lemon. “First of all, let’s do away with the whole Mr. Stark business. At least call me Tony.” He gestured between them with his chopsticks. “I think we’ve graduated to first name basis, don’t you think?”

Peter nodded. “Okay, Mr. S—uh, Tony.” Okay, that was weird. The only adult Peter called by name was May and that was because, well, she was _May._ Calling Mr. Stark ‘Tony’ seemed wrong somehow, but what else was he supposed to call him? Uncle Tony? He resolutely ignored the voice in the back of his head that whispered: _you’re supposed to call him Dad. _“Okay, what do you want to do though?”

“Up to you, kid.”

Peter frowned. “Okay, but what do _you_ want?”

Mr. Stark stared at him dryly. “Whatever _you_ want…are we gonna keep doing this all night? Pass the garlic chicken, please.”

May picked up the carton and handed it off, a bemused twist to her mouth.

Mr. Stark offered the chicken to Peter before he passed it back, which was…strangely thoughtful. Peter shook his head and asked, “Well, how do I know what to do if I don’t know what you want to do?”

Mr. Stark actually looked pained, and exchanged an unspoken message with Aunt May. She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Wow, you’re both as bad as one another. Peter, honey, what Mr. Stark—_Tony_—here is trying to say is that he’s happy to be in your life, but only if you want him to be.” She shot Mr. Stark a look as if to say, ‘see, that’s how it’s done’. Mr. Stark just quirked his lips.

What did that mean? Did that mean that…that Mr. Stark _wanted_ Peter to like, start calling him Dad? Or…did he want Peter to come live with him? Did he want joint-custody? Did he just want to come over for dinner every month? His jaw worked, wondering where to start. Instead, he blurted out, “What does that exactly entail?”

May looked at Mr. Stark again. She hesitated, and though she definitely tried to hide it, Peter saw the way she braced herself before she said, “Whatever you want it to, Peter. If…If you want to stay with Tony, or stay with me, or alternate weekends, or just see each other every so often, it’s completely up to you.”

“Whoa, I’m not gonna just pack up and leave you, May!” Then a terrible thought came to him and he had to know, “Unless…unless you’d rather I go stay with Mr…_Tony_.”

Mr. Stark was looking back and forth between them with a frown on his face. Before May could answer Peter, he held up both hands, and went, “Okay, time out. Clearly you two need to have a talk first, so let’s table this discussion for another day.”

May looked relieved, but Peter was annoyed. This question had been nagging at him ever since they both dropped this bomb on him, and he was so close to an answer.

The rest of dinner was even more silently awkward than before. Mr. Stark didn’t take any leftovers with him, but he did make a hand motion and tell Peter to ‘call him’ before he left. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're thinking of working in Silicon Valley...don't. It's not worth it, guys.  
Anyway, at least it's a 3 day weekend, so will try to fix up the next chapter either tomorrow or Monday.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which MJ practices amateur psychology. Ned fanboys. Peter deliberates.

### VI.

At school the next day, Peter gave Ned and Michelle an update on the situation. First, he showed them the DNA test, which Michelle practically snatched out of his hands with a dangerous glint in her eye, and then Ned tried to steal it because he _had to see the proof._ After he’d managed to retrieve the test and stuff it back in his bag, he told them about dinner. “And then Mr. Stark, sorry, _Tony_, left, and…and I don’t know what to _do!_” Peter concluded the story by tugging painfully at his hair, at a complete loss.

Seriously, after Mr. Stark had left, he and May had had a stilted conversation where May had awkwardly talked around the whole issue of Peter’s future by trying to simultaneously reassure him she didn’t want him to go, but she also didn’t want him to stay, if that’s what _he_ wanted. It had been confusing and not at all helpful for Peter’s peace of mind. 

He’d wanted concrete advice, not…not this wishy-washy stuff he was getting from May and Mr. Stark. 

“Well, what _do_ you want?” Michelle asked him calmly, and Peter nearly screamed.

He grabbed his hair harder and thunked his forehead on the table, eyes closing. “Oh my god,” he moaned, “the next person who asks me that…”

A large, warm hand patted his shoulder comfortingly, and Ned said, “Okay, buddy.”

Peter raised his head, eyes unfocused. “Like, I don’t _know,_ okay? And that’s all they keep asking me, but I don’t _know,_ and I…” he trailed off, huffing.

Ned gave an exclamation and dragged his backpack up to the table. He pulled out a notebook and his pencil case, explaining, “I know, let’s make a pro-con list, that’ll help. Although, pro-con about what? What are we pro-conning here? Who you want to live with? Whether you want Mr. Stark around? Which, just saying, massive pro, dude.” He drew a fat line down the center of the paper andwrote ‘pros’ on one side and ‘cons’ on the other. At the top he put a question mark. 

Michelle sighed and yanked the paper out from under his grip. “Amateur. Give.” Ignoring Ned’s spluttering, she folded the paper into thirds horizontally and wrote ‘pros’ and ‘cons’ at the top of each of the six boxes. Then for each set of pro-con boxes, she wrote a topic along the margin. Peter peered at it anxiously, and found she’d written, ‘Reject Stark’, ‘Visitation Rights’, and ‘Joint Custody’.

Peter furrowed his brow, but before he (or Ned) could ask the obvious questions, Michelle rapped her pencil sharply against each of the three categories and explained in a no-nonsense tone, “We have three main options here. First, obviously, is just ignore the whole thing. Tell Stark to get lost and live happily ever after. Ah!” She held up a finger when Ned began to protest why this was a dumb option. “Zip it. That’s the whole point of the list. Now, second option is what I’m callin’ visitation rights. Like, you try out the whole parent thing on a trial basis, see Stark occasionally, sorta test the waters, but you still live full-time with May and you don’t have any sort of living situation with Stark, and he doesn’t get any say in what you do, make sense?” Peter nodded slowly. Yeah, it was making sense. Which meant the last option was…

“Last,” Michelle pointed, “go straight for joint custody. Like, try out the whole divorced parents shtick. Like, weekends with Stark or alternate weeks, or alternate months, every other day, whatever floats your boat. Basically, embrace the relationship. Also, it means he’d have to actually, you know, act like your dad, which means he gets some kind of legal rights too.”

“Okay…” said Peter slowly. This seemed a bit extreme. He exchanged a look with Ned, who only nodded encouragingly.

“Alright,” Michelle finished, glancing between them. “Let’s do this. Free for all, option one, pros and cons, go.” She pushed the paper to the middle of the table, placed the pencil down on top of it, and waited.

It took them the whole lunch period to think of all the possible pros and cons of each situation. Mostly, it was Ned snatching up the paper and muttering about a lot of different reasons why one or the other option was bad or good, but Peter appreciated the input, even if Ned had an obvious bias towards accepting Mr. Stark as the new ‘Father of the Year’. Michelle, on the other hand, appeared to be a lot more critical of the situation and had plenty to say about all three options. Peter mostly let them hash it out and only chimed in, or wrote something down, when he felt they were overlooking a problem. Otherwise, he sat there with his chin in hand and began to really ponder.

The bell rang before they were able to properly analyze their results, but Peter already had a pretty good idea of what each situation would entail and thought about it exclusively for the remaining few hours of school. Then, instead of heading straight out for patrol after the last bell of the day, Michelle found him and Ned and dragged them to a corner of the gym, at the very top of the bleachers, where they couldn’t be overheard. Apparently, they needed to finish their earlier discussion. Peter wasn’t exactly opposed. He may understand the consequences of each scenario, but that didn’t mean he’d made up his mind yet, even if the exercise had helped him at least form some more concrete opinions on the matter. 

The annoying part was, he thought he knew which route his heart wanted to take, but his stupid mind kept getting in the way, constantly throwing new fears and worries in the way and reminding him how it could all go wrong.

Michelle plucked the list out of Peter’s bag and laid it out before them on a bleacher step, declaring, “We need resolution. Let’s walk through each list and draw our conclusions.”

“We’re not writing an essay,” Ned complained, but leaned forward with interest regardless. He had taken up the bleacher one step down, while Michelle and Peter faced each other on the top seat, the paper between them.

“So according to this, we’ve decided that the ignoring Stark option has more cons than pros and I’m officially striking it off. All opposed, say ‘aye’.”

Neither Peter nor Ned said ‘aye’ and Michelle gleefully put a giant X through both boxes. Her eyes flickered up to see Peter’s reaction as she did, but honestly, Peter only felt relief. He realized with new clarity that no matter what, he didn’t—couldn’t—just reject Mr. Stark without at least _trying._ He…he wanted to try. The question at this point was: how far did he let it go?

The next two scenarios had an equal amount of pros and cons and the problem was that Peter couldn’t decide which pros were better, and which cons were worse than the others. 

“Pros of arranging visitation,” Michelle read off, in a low enough voice not to travel far, but still be heard by their small group, “no uprooting your living arrangements, no worrying about living in more than one place, no upheaval to your daily life, etc, keep the status quo with your Aunt May, you get to decide if and when you see Stark, you can easily shut it down at any time, May retains sole parenting rights and Stark doesn’t get any control over your life… Okay, now cons, you probably won’t get a lot of time with Stark, it could be more difficult to build a relationship, you don’t get…seriously, Ned?” 

Michelle glanced up, but Ned made ‘go on’ gestured with his hands, and she rolled her eyes and kept reading. “So, you don’t get the benefits—”

“Awesome benefits!”

“—_awesome_ benefits of living with a genius inventor, billionaire superhero, aka Iron Man.”

“Seriously, that’s like the worst con,” Ned added. “Think of the labs! The tech! The awesome sleepover potential!”

Michelle shot him a dubious look. Her eyes went back to the paper. “Anyway, cons also include, lack of secondary parental figure and male role model, alienating Stark…I think that one should go under ‘difficult to build relationship’. Same with this ‘missed opportunities’ one. Okay, last one is, no father-son bonding.”

Peter fidgeted in his seat uncomfortably, especially at that last one. That one had also been Ned, who had pointed out that it would be nice to be able to have a male adult figure in his life as well. Ned glanced between them now, defensive. “I’m just saying but there are some things my dad does with me rather than my mom, and vice versa, you know? Like cooking. It’s our bonding thing. Peter should have a bonding thing with like, _both_ his parents. Visitation doesn’t give you a lot of bonding time.” 

Michelle tucked her hair behind her ears and cleared her throat, tapping her pencil against the last section. “Okay, if we’re all clear on that one, here’s the pros of joint custody: you get the benefits of having two rooms and twice the stuff, living in a…actually, I’m crossing this out, he’s not going to be living at the Avengers Compound, I’m sure Stark has a normal apartment or house.”

Ned and Peter exchanged looks and didn’t comment, while Michelle corrected Ned’s previous addition. 

“Okay,” she continued, “benefit of living in a swanky apartment, although word to the wise, Peter, you shouldn’t let materialistic concerns drive this decision, this shouldn’t be about the money.”

Peter nodded. He tried not to think about the three hundred dollar bills still burning a hole in his wallet. He hadn’t had a chance to give them back the day before, and now he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Yeah, but think about all the cool _tech_. That’s definitely a consideration. Peter could do so much cool stuff with all Mr. Stark’s awesome tech,” Ned pointed out.

Michelle rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Anyway, all the pros are basically last option’s cons. You get the benefit of building a really close relationship, you get a secondary parental figure, you get bonding time, you get a dad, hopefully. Basically, you get to give the relationship a real chance.” At Peter’s slow nod of understanding she said, “Okay, good, cons, living arrangements could be stressful and daily routine would be disrupted, you wouldn’t see May every day, you’d…” Michelle pursed her lips and frowned up at Peter, and Peter remembered now what he’d written in the con’s section. Her eyes narrowed, but she still carried on, “you’d be letting go of Ben…_Peter…_”

Peter raised his chin stubbornly and Michelle rubbed her forehead. She and Ned shared a look that Peter pretended he hadn’t seen. “You’re allowed to move on, you know?” she said, with an uncommon amount of gentleness.

Ned put a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, Peter, he’d want you to.”

Peter shrugged, frowning. Somehow, it still felt a bit like betrayal, though. 

Michelle cleared her throat. “Okay, um, let’s see… It will be harder to back out of the arrangement if it’s not working out, you’d have another adult telling you what to do…really? Most people have two parents telling them what to do, you know.”

“Yeah, dude, I don’t know if that’s really a con,” Ned added. 

“Yeah, but usually they’re married and make decisions together,” Peter pointed out. “What if Mr. Stark decides a bunch of things and then May decides a bunch of things and I’m stuck in the middle?”

Michelle twirled her pencil between her fingers and propped her chin up with one hand. “Well, hypothetically, joint custody done right means both parents communicate effectively and make decisions together about their kid, even if they’re not married or even if they don’t like each other.” She tapped the paper with the tip of the pencil. “That’s why it’s joint custody, not single custody. Both parties have to be responsible.” She raised an eyebrow. “You think Stark’s not up for that?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.”

Ned frowned and pulled the paper closer, staring at the lists. “Why can’t you like, do a bit of both? Or sorta, do like a trial period for each, or pick one and start there and see how it goes. I mean, even if you try living with him, you don’t have to make it official straight away, right?” He looked up. “I’m just saying, I don’t think this needs to be absolute.”

Michelle nodded with a smirk. “Well, duh. The point of this was just to make you think about what you actually want.” She cocked her head. “Well? Did it work?”

Peter blinked. He guessed it had, in a way. At least he knew now he had real opinions about all of the things on the list. The only problem was Mr. Stark. How far was he willing to go, like, for real? “I still don’t know how he’d be at some of this stuff…” He gestured at the list.

Michelle twirled her pencil one more time, before shoving it behind her ear, where it caught in her wild curls. “Have you even talked to Stark about any of this yet? Maybe the list would help more if you knew where his head was at?”

Peter’s hand went to his pocket and his phone. “No,” he admitted. “But he and May just keep saying that they’ll do what I want, and I dunno if they’re just…”

“Trying to placate you?” Michelle offered, mouth pursed in thought. “Could be.”

Ned swung his legs against the bleachers. He shook his head. “Nah. No, they’re just doing that thing where, you know, there’s only one piece of cake left, and they say _you_ can have the last piece of cake, even when they secretly want it, but they’re your parents so they’re gonna give you the last piece of cake anyway, because that’s what parents do.”

Peter and Michelle both stared at him and he shrugged. “What? It’s a good analogy. Seriously, though, it is a good thing, ‘cause that means Mr. Stark is already trying to give you the last piece of cake, you know?”

Michelle looked thoughtful. “True…but it could also mean Stark secretly has reservations and is just trying to do what he thinks he _should_ do, not what he actually _wants_ to do.” She shot Peter a guilty look. “Sorry, Peter. I know that’s not what you wanna hear, but—”

Peter’s hands shot up to cut her off. “No! That’s exactly what I need to hear! I need to hear the _truth._”

Ned leaned forward. “Hey, that might not be the case, you know. Michelle’s right, you need to talk to him.”

Michelle leaned back, palms behind her and one foot swinging off the edge of the bleacher. She somehow managed to look down her nose at both of them. “I’m usually right. Just embrace it now.” Her lips quirked. “Communication is key, so go communicate.” One hand came up and made little shooing gestures at Peter.

Peter’s phone continued to burn a hole in his pocket. He licked his lips. “Like…how? Just call him and be like, ‘Hey, Mr. Stark, you wanna chat?’”

Ned scooted right to the edge of his seat, eyes widening. “Peter, you have his number? Like, for real?”

“Of course he does,” Michelle muttered.

Peter focused on Ned’s eager face. He was glad Ned was still able to be excited about this, since Peter was too tied-up with his own emotions and fears to be able to really appreciate the awesomeness (and ludicrousness) of the situation. It also helped remind him that yes, he was technically living every nerd-kid’s dream right now. Didn’t every orphan want some famous, rich, genius superhero to come in and declare they were related, and they were gonna take them in? Maybe if Peter didn’t have May, he’d have jumped on the opportunity without looking back. But he _did_ have May, he was lucky that way, and while that made things ten-times more complicated, he definitely wouldn’t give her up for the world.

But that didn’t mean that this wasn’t an opportunity. And maybe…maybe they could make this work. Peter wasn’t sure how, yet, but Michelle and Ned were right, he should stop letting May and Mr. Stark placate him and try to ‘give him the last piece of cake’. He should talk to them, properly.

“Yeah, okay, I’m gonna call him. And dude, I know, right? He gave me his number yesterday!”

Michelle rolled her eyes. Ned’s eyes shone. “Wow. You have Iron Man on speed-dial, that’s so cool! Wait, wait, is it like, only for emergencies, or can you just, like, text him right now and he’ll text you back?”

Even Michelle couldn’t hide her interest about that, and Peter felt a bit smug as he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened his contact list to show them both the ‘Tony Stark’ he’d typed in last night. “That’s his number, and yeah, I can use it anytime I want.”

Ned reached eager hands for the phone and Peter pulled it quickly to his chest. “Aww, okay, if you won’t let me, can I watch while you text him? Pretty please?”

Peter couldn’t help but look to Michelle to see what she thought, but she was just lounging there, watching them both with something that could be labelled amusement, but which Peter thought hid an actual interest in the situation. Her shoulders came up and down when their eyes met and he dragged his eyes back to his contact list.

Okay, sure, why not. Why not now? Licking his lips, he opened a new message. Ned scrambled up next to him, leaning over eagerly to see the screen as Peter slowly tapped out, **Hi, Mr. Stark, **then erased that because hadn’t Mr. Stark told him to call him Tony? **Hi, Tony,** and then erased that as well. 

“What do I call him?” Peter complained. This was hard.

“Just don’t even call him anything, just write a message!” Ned exclaimed, nudging his shoulder impatiently.

Right, Mr. Stark already had his number, he’d know who it was. Probably. **Hi, can we talk sometime?**

He hit send and then immediately regretted it and added, **When you’re not busy.**

Then he had to add, **Like, any time is good. Just whenever. **Because he just wanted to be clear. 

And what if Mr. Stark really didn’t realize it was him? Shit. He quickly typed one last message: **BTW, this is Peter.**

“I think he knows it’s you,” Ned uttered. 

Peter looked up and nearly smashed foreheads with both Ned and Michelle, who were leaning incredibly far into his space in order to see what he was typing. 

“Yeah, if the number didn’t tip him off, I bet the maniac texting did,” Michelle snarked, though she was smirking and seemed amused, rather than disdainful. Peter shot her a sheepish smile. Yeah, he knew he texted a lot, it was just kind of his thing.

Mr. Stark said he could contact him anytime though, so surely he wouldn’t mind? Right?

Suddenly, Ned began to shake his shoulder. “Oh my god, oh my god, look, he’s typing back! Peter, look!”

Even Michelle leaned forward again, eyes fixed on the screen. Peter stared at the three little dots with wide eyes. He had half-expected a response, sure, especially after their conversation yesterday, but so quickly? Didn’t Mr. Stark have a million and one important meetings and things to invent and superhero stuff to do? 

“That was fast,” Michelle murmured, “Guess he meant it.” Her eyes flickered up beneath her lashes and caught Peter’s gaze. “It’s a good thing.”

He looked back at his phone, where the response had appeared: **Sure thing, kid. You want me to send Happy to pick you up and bring you to the Compound, or do you want me to come to Queens?**

Peter’s heart pounded loudly in his ears. He reached for the keypad, thumbs hovering, but froze because Mr. Stark was typing again! 

**Or, we can meet wherever you want. Go get ice cream, or something.**

“Oh my god,” Ned moaned, “I’m so jealous! Peter, you hafta tell me _everything_.”

“He’s willing to come to Queens _and_ offered to get you ice cream, of his own volition,” Michelle analyzed. She tapped her mouth. “Hmm, I’d say that’s a good sign. I mean a little bit amateur hour, but he’s obviously trying.”

Peter nodded, heart still in his throat. **Thanks,** he typed, then paused and looked up wildly. “Shit, guys, quick, what do I say?”

“Uh, Compound, obviously, you could meet the Avengers!” Ned exclaimed.

“No way,” Michelle countered. “This isn’t about the Avengers, this is about your relationship, don’t overshadow that.”

Ned sighed, “Aw man, she’s right.” He perked up. “But next time, right?”

Peter let out a small laugh. “Yeah, Ned, next time.” Then he realized that Mr. Stark was probably watching his own three little dots and waiting for Peter to say something and he was wasting time. “But which one…”

“Ice cream!” Ned blurted.

Peter automatically typed, **Thanks, ice cream sounds good,** hit send, and then immediately regretted it, like a lot of things in life. “Crap, what if he thinks I just want him to buy me ice cream? Ned!”

“I’d be more worried about paparazzi,” Michelle mused. At Peter’s panicked look, she studied him from head to toe. “Wear sunglasses and a hat, you should be good.” Her eyes fixed on his Midtown Academic Decathlon sweater. “And either turn that inside out or wear something else.”

Ned tugged his sleeve. “He’s responding!”

**Okay, want me to pick you up from school, or want to meet me somewhere? Your pick.**

“Could you imagine the look on Flash’s face if _Tony Stark_ picked you up from school in his super car? Please do it. I’ll film the whole thing, it’ll be _beautiful_.”

“That completely invalidates the point of a low profile!” Michelle exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Also, this isn’t about Flash, ignore him for now. I say meet him there, incognito.”

“But my _dream,_” Ned muttered. “We’re gonna do it eventually, right?” He grabbed Peter’s arm. “_Right?_”

Peter nodded automatically, and also because Ned had a point. If this worked out, then having _the_ Tony Stark pick him up from school would be the ultimate revenge against Flash. There would literally be nothing he could say to make fun of that. Especially if Ned caught his no doubt dumbstruck reaction on camera. “Yeah, definitely.”

Ned pumped a fist. “Yes! Peter, I love you and you’re my best friend and I just want to thank you for being born, okay?” He placed a solemn hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

Michelle’s hand covered her eyes and Peter heard her mutter under her breath, probably thinking she couldn’t be heard, “Oh my god, you two are hopeless.” She straightened and said, more loudly, “Okay, Peter, just respond already.”

Oh, right. After a bit more back-and-forth texting, he and Mr. Stark agreed to meet up in an hour at this ice-cream parlor across the river in Brooklyn. Peter had almost suggested this place close to school, and popular with all the kids, until Michelle pointed out that he was trying to keep a low profile, and getting ice cream with Tony Stark where any Midtown student could gawp and take pictures, was the opposite definition of subtle. 

It was kind of surreal to think he’d be getting ice-cream with Tony Stark, so to make it more believable he tried to think of it less like he was getting ice-cream with _Tony Stark_, and more like he was getting ice-cream with his potential future parental-figure. And this was kind of like an interview. Like, thanks for applying to be Peter Parker’s dad, please fill out this form, and submit a resume and cover letter for approval and he’ll get back to you with an answer.

Fifteen minutes later, Ned had to head home, or his mom would call. Michelle, apparently, had nowhere better to be, so she dragged Peter to the library and made him sit and do his homework, because apparently he might not feel up to doing it later. Or something. 

Peter thought guiltily of his spider suit and wondered whether it was okay to skip out on a day of patrol yet again. He’d only gotten in, like, half an hour yesterday before Mr. Stark had called him and made him come home. The good people of Queens were relying on him to keep their streets clean and crime down! Yet, here he was sitting at school doing _homework._

His knee jiggled and he chewed on the end of his pen, only to look up and find Michelle staring at him. He pulled the pen out of his mouth and tried to stop the nervous twitching of his leg. Fortunately, Michelle attributed this to his nerves over meeting Mr. Stark later, and not because he was anxious to go out on patrol. 

Maybe after talking to Mr. Stark? If he did his homework now, then he’d have time later. And May was working a late shift today, which meant Peter could afford to arrive back later as well and May wouldn’t know any different.

Then, finally, it was time to go, unless Peter wanted to be late. He took a deep breath, packed up his stuff, said goodbye to Michelle, and headed out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did mention I would be breaking out all the tropes, right? Well, here they come!  
Also a special shout out to the lovely commenters. I'm glad you're all enjoying this journey with me. Anyway, two chapters within a few days, as promised.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Tony get ice cream; it's only a little awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also in which the author apologises for the wait.

### VII.

Peter didn’t have a lot of memories of his parents. He’d been pretty young when they passed and he was left in the care of Aunt May and Uncle Ben. So, he had a lot more memories of outings with his Aunt and Uncle, and especially the kinds of outings that were considered typical father-child bonding experiences with Ben—things like baseball games, going to the park, or going to the batting cages. Things Aunt May wasn’t as interested in, but Ben thought Peter needed to experience at least once to be a true New Yorker.

Like the Stark Expo. That had been Ben and May’s way of cheering him up shortly after his parents’ deaths. Of course, that had turned out to be an unmitigated disaster, but Peter remembered clearly how amazing it had been, how grateful he was to Ben and May for taking him…and he also remembered Iron Man coming down from the sky, just in time to blast away one of Hammer’s robots. When he was older, Peter looked back on that moment with awe and pride, and knew that was the moment that Tony Stark became his hero.

So it was both weird and kind of poetic that he was now going to get ice cream with Tony Stark, because the man had been an influence in his life almost as long as Ben had. It was just that things like this had used to be reserved for Ben and May only, and Peter still didn’t know how he felt to have Tony Stark, the man who had formerly been such an unattainable, distant figure, start to encroach on that sacred memory.

Ned’s words kept floating up from the back of his mind, reminding him that he wasn’t giving anything (or anyone) up, and that he wasn’t going to lose those memories, just gain new ones to complement them. He clung hard to the thought, because that was the only way he could look at this now, without freaking out.

Also, it was _Tony freaking Stark._

Peter arrived at the ice cream parlor before Mr. Stark did and, after checking the interior, just in case, settled in near the entrance to wait. Like Michelle had recommended, he’d made a pit-stop at a bodega near the subway station and picked up a pair of cheap sunglasses and a baseball hat. Considering he never did manage to give Mr. Stark back his three hundred, and it was kind of Mr. Stark’s fault that Peter had to be sneaky, he didn’t feel so guilty about using the money to purchase them. Although the look of pure suspicion the man behind the cash register had given him when he’d handed over the hundred dollar bill hadn’t been pleasant.

Still, after a lot of squinting at it and testing it, the money had been accepted and now Peter actually had normal change in his pockets. How Mr. Stark thought he was supposed to buy school lunch with a _hundred_ _dollar bill_ was a testament to how out of touch with everyday life he was. Or maybe just out of touch with the cost of school lunch. He could just see it now, the expression on the lunch lady’s face if he even tried. Yikes. 

Not to mention the bullies might catch wind of it and try to shake him down for more. No thank you.

Peter had half expected Mr. Stark to come zooming up in some flashy car, casually park in a no-park zone, and get out to much admiration and flashing phone cameras. Instead, the back of his neck prickled and his spidey-sense alerted him that there was someone coming up behind him and he turned just in time to see a casually dressed man, wearing regular jeans and a long-sleeved shirt under an old band t-shirt, come strolling up, hands in his pockets, and baseball cap pulled low over his face. He walked in such a way, with a sort of casual slouch, that everyone else just walked right past him without even noticing the signature Tony Stark goatee on the bottom half of his face.

“Hey.” Mr. Stark peered at him from under the brim of the hat. His lips quirked. “Looks like we had the same idea, huh, twin?”

Peter’s mouth was still open in shock that Tony Stark was standing there looking like any average Joe in a ratty shirt and jeans and just basically looking so _normal_ that his brain honestly couldn’t compute. 

Mr. Stark rolled his eyes. “Alright, no need to look so shocked. How do you think I ever get around without a whole parade of paps on my tail? Come on, I promised you ice cream, didn’t I?” He strolled around Peter and pulled open the door, cool air rushing out in a chilly gush that was pleasant against the lingering autumn sun. “After you, kiddo.”

Ben had used to call him ‘kiddo’. Peter swallowed back the memory and stepped inside.

The place was reasonably crowded for a weekday afternoon, mostly with teens and mothers with young children. There were a limited number of little tables with chairs to sit on at the front of the shop, but most of the people got their ice cream and then left, probably to go walk near the river, which had an admittedly fantastic view of the Brooklyn Bridge, as well as Lower Manhattan across the water.

“Hmm, small place, but all local-made, could be good,” Mr. Stark remarked quietly as he peered around the clearly family-run business. It was a little run-down but nothing to warrant any alarm over the quality, and to Peter’s delight, the portion sizes seemed significant. 

No one paid them any mind while they waited quietly in line, just two normal people in baseball caps getting ice cream, and when it came time to order, the bored looking man behind the counter didn’t so much as look at Mr. Stark’s face for longer than a second or two as he passed over the money. This time, thank god, he handed over a fifty instead of a hundred, and while the cashier did blink at it, he didn’t seem as suspicious as the bodega man.

When Peter had his strawberry (the best flavor) and Mr. Stark had rocky road (the second-best flavor), Mr. Stark looked at the lack of private tables and gestured Peter towards the door. “Why don’t we take a walk?”  


“You sure?” Peter wondered. “What about paparazzi?”

Mr. Stark snorted, and then licked his ice cream cone, which was kind of surreal in of itself, because here was Tony Stark, eating an ice cream cone. “No one knows I’m here, in fact, it’ll be easier to avoid getting noticed if we’re on the move. Come on.”

Peter followed him across the street to the area by the river. There were a few other people either sitting around, walking, jogging, or doing something like taking pictures, or painting. There were also a few homeless people, but that was par for the course around here. Mr. Stark was right; no one was paying attention to the two of them walking with their ice cream.

“So,” said Mr. Stark after a minute or two of eating ice cream, “what did you want to talk about?”

Peter was glad Mr. Stark had segued into the conversation because Peter hadn’t been able to break the silence. 

“Peter?”

He could do this. He had a list, and he had talked this out with Ned and Michelle. He just needed to find out Mr. Stark’s _real_ feelings on the matter. He turned to look at the other man, who was not much taller than Peter himself—maybe an inch. Did that mean he wasn’t going to get much taller, or did he still have hope?

Mr. Stark raised an eyebrow at him and Peter realized he’d been staring at the top of Mr. Stark’s head for longer than normal. “Do you think I’m gonna get much taller?” he blurted out, which…definitely not how he had wanted to start this conversation.

Mr. Stark stared at him for long enough that his ice cream started dripping. He licked away the chocolate (nope, still weird). “Pretty sure you didn’t call me out here to talk about your height.” Before Peter could find the right words to continue, Mr. Stark added, “My mom was shorter than my dad, so I guess I got stuck in between, doesn’t mean you couldn’t take after my dad, and I have no idea about your mom’s side of the family.” His eyebrows went up again. “Gonna ask about premature baldness now? If so, you’re outta luck, that runs on the other side of the family equation, kid.”

Peter flushed and bit a little too hard into his ice cream, which made his teeth ache. Sensitive teeth were a burden. “Sorry…no, I wanted to ask you…” He scuffed a foot along the pavement and wondered how you were supposed to ask someone how they felt about you when you were half-afraid of the answer. “Um…”

“Ask me what?”

Peter took a deep breath. He was the Spider-man. He could ask his…Mr. Stark how he felt. He stopped walking, though the older man went a few more steps before he realized Peter wasn’t still next to him and turned around, mouth downturned. “Peter?”

“Mr. Stark, _Tony,_” he corrected quickly, when Mr. Stark scowled. No, that was still weird. “Look, I know you and Aunt May want to let me decide what to do, but…I want to know how you feel, because this is a two-way street,” he gestured between them and his ice cream nearly fell off the cone. “Whoops. Sorry, Mr. Stark, I mean, this can’t be a one-sided decision and I can’t make any decisions unless I know how you really feel and not what you want me to think you feel…” He trailed off, wondering if he was making sense because Mr. Stark’s scowl had deepened and he wasn’t looking at Peter anymore, but glaring out across the water. “Mr. Stark?”

Mr. Stark sighed. “Damn, kid, you’re really married to that Mr. Stark nonsense, aren’t you?”

Peter flushed but didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t about to tell Mr. Stark that it was honestly the only way he _could_ address the man, because calling someone like Mr. Stark ‘Tony’, like they were equals, just didn’t feel right and…and he wasn’t ready for the other alternative. He just wasn’t.

Mr. Stark ran a hand under his cap and then adjusted it. He turned back to Peter, ice cream forgotten. “Look, the fact that I want you to call me Tony…that I even told you about this in the first place… Shouldn’t that tell you something?”

Peter raised his chin. Michelle had told him to get the truth no matter what. “I think you should use your words.”

Mr. Stark’s mouth dropped open, he stared at Peter for a beat or two, then burst out laughing. Peter lost some of his momentum and stern posture, because _what?_

Mr. Stark walked over and slapped Peter’s shoulder companionably. “Jeez, kid, you take lessons in shrink talk? Okay, fine, words, I can do words. What kind of words are you looking for exactly?”

Peter huffed and wondered why he was the one who had to be the emotionally mature person in this situation? It’s not like he was the greatest at understanding himself either, but Mr. Stark was clearly being obtuse. “Fine. How about, how am I supposed to decide if I want you to..to be my _dad_ if I don’t know if _you_ want to be my dad? Or what your idea of being a dad even _is?_ Like what do you think is going to happen? What are you going to do?”

He’d said the D-word out loud and the world hadn’t ended. That was good. Although, maybe still getting ahead of himself a little. Tony Stark looked just as surprised by the D-word as Peter was by his own outburst. The man’s mouth gaped, and Peter realized they were starting to draw just a little attention now. He started walking again, and Mr. Stark hurried to catch up. 

“Okay, that’s… Shit.” Mr. Stark rubbed his chin. “Anyone will tell you I’m not good at talking about my feelings. Especially Rhodey and Pepper…you really should meet them, I bet you and Rhodey would get along. Pepper’ll like you too. Remind me to do that, will you?” Peter shot him a look and Mr. Stark backtracked, “Right, right. Can I be honest with you? I feel like right now we’re doing that honesty thing. I never had a really good role-model growing up. It’s taken a lot of really bad mistakes to make it to this point, where I feel like I’m actually doing something right. You… you’re a good kid, Peter, really bright, lots of potential, and I _don’t_ want to screw that up, and I’m fucking terrified that that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, because wasn’t it considered bad form to swear like that around teenagers? Probably. Not that it stopped Aunt May from the occasional expletive.

“I don’t have the best track record with the people I care about. That’s why I’m leaving it up to you to decide if you really want me in your life. I’ll probably screw up at some point, I always do, so…” He gestured helplessly. “Up to you.”

Peter really had no idea what to say to that. He definitely hadn’t been expecting it. Tony Stark had been his idol for so long, he was everything Peter aspired to be, and yet here he was saying, what…that he wasn’t good enough? That he’d mess up?

He stopped again, abruptly, as something Mr. Stark had said finally registered. “Wait…people you care about? You mean that’s me? I’m one of the people you care about?”

Mr. Stark turned to give him such an incredulous look that Peter felt almost foolish for asking. “Was the multi-million dollar suit, constant worrying and checking up on you, _plus_ all of, well, _this,_” he gestured around them and at the ice cream, “not enough of an indication? Of course I care about you, Peter, you’re…you’re _you!_” He cleared his throat, glancing away. “And apparently you’re my son, so how could I not care?”

Peter hurried up beside the other man, eyes wide. He’d expected Mr. Stark to maybe say he wanted to try, or maybe that he liked Peter and wanted to get to know him better, but he hadn’t expected him to confess that he already _cared,_ apparently a lot. Even before the discovery. And he hadn’t even mentioned Spider-man. Peter had always assumed that was all Mr. Stark was interested in, but…maybe that wasn’t true? Maybe he actually cared about dorky Peter Parker, the kid, and not just Spider-man, the hero? 

“I wanna try,” he blurted out, overcome by this revelation. “I mean…this.” He gestured between them with a shaky finger.

Mr. Stark stepped closer, and Peter could swear he looked hopeful. Even his voice sounded hopeful, even if it was obvious he was trying to hide it. “Yeah?”

Peter could only nod. 

Mr. Stark took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, that’s…good. That’s good. Me and May…May and I’ll talk, and of course you’ll get to decide how you wanna do this, but, we’ll sort something out.” Mr. Stark turned away, muttering, but Peter caught most of it (you know, super hearing), there was mention of the Compound and it being too far away, whatever that meant, and how Pepper needed to call legal, and something about more paperwork.

Peter remembered his ice cream, which had dripped a trail along the path. He finished off the last bit of melted strawberry so he could get to the cone. Munching on that, he let Mr. Stark collect himself. 

Should he call Mr. Stark something else? It seemed weird to call him Mr. Stark. It was just as weird to call him Tony, though. 

Maybe he should just avoid calling him anything at all? If he worded things right, he could probably manage to avoid addressing him altogether.

“Your ice cream’s melting,” Peter observed.

Mr. Stark held up the dripping cone with a grimace. “Yeah, I think this ship has sailed.” He made for the nearest public trash can, and Peter couldn’t help the distressed noise he made. That was perfectly good rocky road! And a perfectly good cone!

“Don’t tell me you want it?” Mr. Stark held it out with an expression of dubiousness mixed with mild disgust, but Mr. Stark underestimated the teenage appetite, because Peter happily plucked it from his hand. “Oh-kay, knock yourself out… Doesn’t your aunt feed you enough?”

“Yeah, ‘course, why?”

Mr. Stark’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’re eating my half-eaten ice cream like you’re starving. All those powers…you gotta be hungry a lot.”

After licking the last of the strawberry ice cream off his fingers, Peter had indeed started picking apart what was left of the rocky road and its cone. He nodded. “Yeah, but I buy a big lunch and then I get food on the way home too, and then May always has dinner, or sometimes if she’s at work, I’ll cook stuff. She brings home take-out, too.”

Mr. Stark stepped forward, eyes still boring into Peter in a way that was starting to make him shift uncomfortably. It was too penetrating, like the man was looking for secrets. “Kid, let me rephrase that, do you go to bed or wake up hungry? After you eat, are you still hungry?”

Peter set his jaw. “May’s not starving me, so don’t accuse her of that!”

“I’m not.” Mr. Stark shook his head. “I have no doubt she feeds you more than enough for a non-superpowered teenager, but she doesn’t know about your powers, and I’m just wondering if you’re getting _enough,_ because I _know_ super metabolisms. Have you ever seen Captain America eat? Man’s a human garbage disposal. Maybe you even _think_ you’re eating enough, but I bet you never turn it down, do you?”

Peter shrugged with one shoulder, staring down at the remnants of the ice cream cone like it had betrayed him. It kinda had. His shoulders hunched. “I get enough food, okay?”

Finally, Mr. Stark dropped it. He made a vague consenting noise in the back of his throat and backed off. Peter eyed him warily, but the conversation seemed to be truly over. Good. He didn’t want Aunt May thinking she wasn’t already doing enough, because she absolutely was; she always gave Peter double portions and beamed about how he was a ‘growing man’, and it wasn’t like he could tell her about Spider-man. He just…snacked a lot, instead. Which was fine. May did _not_ have to know. 

Mr. Stark was watching out of the corner of his eye, so Peter defiantly ate the rest of the ice cream. Instead of commenting, Mr. Stark only looked at his watch and frowned. “I hate to leave, but if I don’t go meet with Pepper, she might actually murder me, and then we’ll both be in trouble.” He reached out, palm warm against Peter’s shoulder as he patted it carefully. “I’ll talk to May, but I think you should talk to her as well. We’ll figure something out we can all agree on. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Mr. Stark was smiling, apparently pleased with the entire conversation. He hesitated, glanced at his watch one last time, then reached out an arm to guide Peter along with him as they turned around back towards the ice cream parlor. “You wanna ride back home?”

“Don’t you have to go meet with Pepper or she’ll kill you?” Peter promptly reminded him with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smirk. 

Mr. Stark scoffed, waving a hand. “It’s on my way.”

Peter was almost positive it was _not_ on Mr. Stark’s way, unless the SI offices had somehow spontaneously moved buildings since he last checked. And that was definitely where CEO Pepper Potts was, if she was in New York. 

“Come on.” Mr. Stark was leading him across the street towards a public parking lot. Peter searched for the bright flashy colors Tony Stark’s cars were known for, but the only reds and oranges he found belonged to a Mustang and Fiat respectively, and he doubted Tony Stark would be caught dead in either of those.

Instead, Mr. Stark lead him over to a rather muted chrome Bugatti, with tinted windows. The car beeped softly and the door automatically popped open, which was kinda cool. Peter’s eyebrows went up. Mr. Stark caught his expression and smirked, winking from under his cap. “I modify all my cars, even the boring ones. Come on, get in.”

As Peter slid inside, he couldn’t help admiring the soft red leather seats, or the smooth gold accents on the interior. Trust Mr. Stark to find a way to spice up even his incognito cars. 

Movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn just as Mr. Stark pulled off the cap and threw it over his shoulder, running a hand through his hair and sighing. “Definitely not my style.” He pulled a pair of sunglasses from the top of the flip-shade and put them on. The car rumbled to life, but didn’t pull away, because Mr. Stark was looking at him through lowered sunglasses. “You can put the backpack down, you know. And your seatbelt on.”

Oh. Right. It felt a little sacrilegious to just dump his dirty backpack on the floor of this pristine car, but he let it slide down to his feet and slowly pulled on his seatbelt. Not that he totally wouldn’t survive a crash, but still. 

The car pulled away and Peter sat in silence for a while. This was weird, but good. Uncle Ben had used to drive him places just like this as well. Now his…his actual father was driving him home, like it was perfectly normal. Assuming Peter forgot for a moment that this was Tony Stark and the car was probably worth more than a year’s salary. 

“I’m glad you wanted to talk,” Mr. Stark—Tony…Dad?—said abruptly. “And that you want to give this a shot.”

Peter slid down his seat slightly, embarrassed by his own thoughts. He observed Mr. Stark out of the corner of his eye and couldn’t even imagine calling him ‘Dad’ to his face. That was crazy, even if for just a moment he’d been able to pretend like this wasn’t Tony Stark, but instead just some guy driving his son around in his car after taking him out for ice cream. A perfectly normal father-and-son thing to do. 

“You haven’t changed your mind, right?”

Peter sat up slowly. Mr. Stark sounded, dare he say, nervous. “No.”

“Good.” Mr. Stark breathed out deeply. “That’s good. Uh, me neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? It's always so difficult to judge how a character would react in these types of emotionally charged situations. Hopefully Peter's reactions jive. IDK. *shrugs*
> 
> Also, sorry about the wait, especially because I had this pretty much written, just hadn't edited it yet, but, well, some personal shit, and then I spontaneously decided that I was going to do NaNoWriMo at the last minute buuuuttt...first I had to finish writing a book so that I could start its sequel for NaNo, so I spent the last half of October doing that, and then all of November NaNo-ing (yes, if you're wondering, I "won") so now I can finally get some more chapters of this posted. Yay.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony faces Pepper, torments his lawyers, and figures out that parenting is harder than it looks. Also, teenagers don't like to listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves sheepishly* Uhhh, hi?

### VIII.

Tony lingered by Peter’s apartment building in his car just to get a hold of himself. He hadn’t expected Peter to contact him so soon and request a meeting. Especially not take him up on his (admittedly cliché) idea of getting ice cream. It had honestly been completely surreal. It wasn’t exactly like Tony had a whole bunch of experience doing things like that with _his_ father, so to do it now with his own son was…different. 

A good different. Yeah. 

It was nice just to…take the kid out, make him happy, talk, do something together just the two of them. And more importantly, get Peter to agree to give it all a chance. As selfish as it was to want this, Tony finally felt like he could breathe. This whole time he’d been holding his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when it finally had…Peter had decided to give him a chance. Him. Tony Stark. 

He liked to think he was doing a hell of a lot better at the whole ‘responsibility’ thing lately, especially after Sokovia, but a son? That was a whole different level, one he wasn’t entirely sure he was ready for or even cut out for, but damn did he want to try.

Peter was just something so incredibly…good. A brilliant spark of potential. And to think that he could be the one to help him grow and take real pride in that because, well, the kid was _his…_he honestly couldn’t think of a better, brighter legacy.

He was reluctant to end their conversation, but he hadn’t lied about agreeing to see Pepper. Pepper thought he was going to finally talk about some important SI business (which he supposed he ought to, but not right now), but rather…he needed to tell her about Peter. Now that this arrangement was looking more permanent, Pepper had a right to know. And Rhodey. 

He was gonna have to call Rhodey and tell him he was an uncle. Oh, and Happy needed to know. 

That was it. No one else, besides maybe Vision, as long as Vision promised to keep it a secret.

But first, Pepper. 

When Tony pulled into the Tower’s underground parking structure, no one paid his car any mind. It wasn’t his usually flashy vehicle, and he’d chosen it deliberately to fly under the radar when he went to meet with Peter. There was inviting trouble and then there was putting up a giant neon sign over your head. No need to attract any media attention, at least not yet.

Of course, the media would catch on eventually, but by then, Tony hoped to have a very firm handle on it, and have had both his PR team and his legal team review every eventuality and cover all angles on Peter’s safety and rights.

No one noticed when he got out of the car either, even though he wasn’t wearing the cap anymore, mostly because he was dressed a bit like a band geek and had perfected the art of the notice-me-not walk, where instead of walking around like he owned the place (which, you know, he did), he rather shuffled along like someone unsure of himself and his place in the world.

It worked like a charm and all the other employees hurried right past him without even a second look. 

Tony didn’t feel like being social right now. Not when he was too busy preparing himself to face the Fire Dragon.

Pepper was sitting in her glass-panelled office wearing one of her power suits and heels sharp enough to slay a man. Her PA looked up from her desk and frowned at him, “Excuse me, sir, Miss Potts isn’t…” she trailed off when Tony pulled down his glasses and peered at her from over the rims. Her mouth clicked shut and she cleared her throat. “Sorry, Mr. Stark, would you like me to let Miss Potts know you’ve arrived?”

Tony grinned. “Nah, I’ll surprise her. I like to surprise her. Keeps her on her toes.” He winked and she stared back completely dubiously.

“Uh-huh,” he heard her mutter under her breath.

Tony burst into the room, flinging off his glasses as he did. “Pepper!”

Much to his disappointment, Pepper didn’t so much as flinch. Or look up. She waved a hand in his direction. “Shut the door.” Tony sighed and did as he was told. Only after the door was shut did Pepper look up, a glint in her eye. “I saw you outside.”

Rolling his eyes, Tony sauntered over to drop a kiss on her raised cheek. Pepper stood, pulling a file out from a drawer and smiling at him. “I’m so glad you called you were coming in to deal with this, it’s been sitting on my desk for two weeks, Tony.” She rapped the manila folder sharply. “Two. Weeks.”

Tony spread his hands. “What can I say, I’ve been busy. The move, you know.”

Pepper sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “I know.” She shot him a dry look. “It’s the only reason I’ve let you off the hook for so long. How’s Happy doing with that?”

Tony strolled around the side of the desk, hands in his pockets. He let his eyes stray to the window, where they had a good view of most of Manhattan. He stared out over the skyline. “Good…Happy’s in his element. We’re down to all the top secret and extremely valuable stuff now, so that’s gonna take a while.” He felt Pepper come up beside him and turned to face her. “He’s watching over this thing like it’s his newborn baby.”

Pepper chuckled, shaking her head. “Of course.” Then, in the same sweet tone, she asked, “Now, why are you really here, Tony?”

Busted. Was it something on his face? In his voice? How did she always know?

Tony licked his lips. “Remember the other night, when I was down in the labs at the Compound?”

“You wouldn’t tell me, then,” Pepper pointed out. She clacked her way over to a set of comfortable chairs and a coffee table that were pointed towards her desk, facing the Manhattan skyline. “I feel like this is a sit down conversation.”

Normally, Tony was constantly in motion. He didn’t like just sitting around unless he was doing something truly engaging with his hands or his mind (usually both), but maybe Pepper was right about this one. He trudged over and plopped down with a sigh.

Pepper’s eyes narrowed. “_Tony._”

“I have a son.” Oh, sure, just blurt it out. He was on a roll today.

Pepper’s eyes widened, her mouth dropped open slightly. Whatever she had expected him to say, it definitely hadn’t been that. “Wh-what?”

Tony leaned forward, hands smoothing over his jeans nervously. “I ran the DNA test myself. It’s…It’s Peter. Peter Parker.”

Pepper stared at him for a beat, then two. She blinked. “Who?”

Ah, yes, he hadn’t exactly _told_ Pepper about the kid. He waved a hand vaguely. “Uh, remember when I asked you to put together a cover for a high-school intern a few months back?”

“For that super kid you recruited, yes,” Pepper said slowly, clearly trying to connect the dots, or maybe just reluctant to.

Tony ran his palms down his jeans again. “Yeah…that was Peter.”

Pepper’s eyes popped. “You’re saying you have a super powered _teenage_ _son?_”

“Surprise?” Tony wriggled his fingers, palms open.

Pepper shot up, hovering for a second, then walked in a daze over to the window. Her arms wrapped around her middle. “How?” she whispered. “How did you… How did _he…_”

Quickly, Tony recapped the events that had lead up to this discovery, more than eager to blame it entirely on FRIDAY. He made sure to emphasize that he hadn’t known. Pepper’s expression was hard to read and it was nerve-wracking. Was this the straw that would break the camel’s back? Was this what would finally break them apart for good?

His heart thumped rapidly in his chest, like a tightly wound drum. The whole time, Pepper stood at the window, arms grasping each other, face a study in stoicism.

Eventually, she said, “So, there’s a super-powered teen in Queens who is your son, and you’ve decided to take responsibility.” Her mouth pressed tightly and her eyes narrowed. “Tony…do you really understand what that means? Have you really talked this over with Peter and his aunt…”

“May,” Tony quickly supplied. 

“Yes, May. You get this is forever, right? Once you bring Peter in, he’ll be inextricably tied to the Stark name and all that comes with it… Does _he_ understand that?”

Tony’s mouth clicked shut and he shook his head slowly. “Shit, no, we haven’t had that conversation yet.”

Good. Great. Day one of Peter putting his trust in Tony and he was already messing it up. He lowered his gaze to his lap.

Pepper sighed again and walked slowly over, sinking down into the chair next to him and reaching for his hands. “I’m just trying to be realistic here. I don’t want you or…or _Peter_ to get hurt because you’ve not considered all the angles yet.”

Tony grimaced, then barked a sardonic laugh. “Pep, why do you think you’re the one running my company?”

Pepper cracked a smile. She nudged his shoulder. “Cheer up, we’ll sort this out, properly. I’ll call the lawyers, PR.” She hesitated. “Can I…I mean, would I be able to meet him?”

He’d been afraid she wouldn’t want anything to do with a teenaged Stark, just the fact that she was willing to help him deal with this was a godsend, but to know she wanted to get to know Peter? Tony was the luckiest bastard in the universe, that was for sure. “You bet, Pep. Let me talk to the kid first, I’m sure he’d love to meet you.”

Pepper’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. Suddenly, she was pulling him into a hug. “Congratulations, Tony.”

“Thanks,” he breathed into her hair.

She pulled back, pushing her hair behind her ear and grinning. “Who’d have ever thought you’d ever be a dad, huh?”

“If you’d have told me a year ago I’d have asked what you were smoking,” Tony agreed dryly. His fingers clenched over his knee. “Pep… As insane as it sounds, I really want this. He’s…he’s such an amazing kid, seriously, once you meet him you’ll see.”

“I’m sure I will,” she responded warmly.

Tony breathed out steadily. “So are you.” She really was. Finding Pepper had probably been the single best thing to happen to him, right next to finding Peter.

Part of him couldn’t believe he got to keep this, keep them both. That Pepper and Peter could both be a part of his life. It made him wary that something was going to try to tear this down. His expression firmed. “Call the lawyers, call PR. I want them on top of this like bees on honey. Peter needs to be protected to the fullest extent of the law, and then some.”

Pepper gathered herself together and straightened, shoulders going back. Her blue eyes went flinty, along with her smile. “Absolutely. Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

Tony’s own spine went ramrod. His chin tucked. “That will be all, Miss Potts.”

There was a pause and Pepper stood, hand brushing his shoulder and squeezing, then running over his cheek before pulling away. “I look forward to meeting him. Send over the official test results, I’ll take care of it.”

Tony jumped to his feet. “What would I do without you? No, seriously, I’m trying to imagine it, but it’s like a post-apocalyptic hellscape.” He pecked her cheek as he passed. “Thanks, babe.” 

Pepper cleared her throat before he made it half way to the door. She smiled sweetly when he turned and brandished the manila folder of paperwork. “And where do you think you’re going without this?”

Tony groaned. 

* * *

After that, it was like time sped up. Things started moving as if in fast-forward mode. The lawyers began drafting the paperwork and within a day, Tony already had Peter added to his Will. 

There had been a few bumps along the way, especially when the lawyers had all had conniptions when he’d announced out of the blue that he was adding his previously unknown teenage son (and his previously unknown teenage son’s current guardian) to his Will. 

Fortunately, Pepper had fielded all the PR people and the SI legal team. Tony had only had to deal with the Estate lawyers, who had been adamant about a _legally-binding_ DNA test before they made any changes. Tony had overruled them, but the fact remained that without a court-ordered DNA test or accredited test (_apparently,_ Tony Stark’s personal lab was _not_ considered ‘accredited’, which, _rude_), the results weren’t actually legally binding. 

At this point, Tony was just trying to juggle working out how he and Peter were going to do this whole ‘trying’ thing to worry too much about the legalities, plus deal with the UN and the Accords, and then spare some more time to continue to fix up Peter’s new and improved spidey suit, when Peter called him. From the suit.

Peter had been texting him. Just a few offhand comments here and there, probably just testing the waters. Tony had tried to be as responsive as possible, to prove that he meant what he said about trying. That didn’t mean he also didn’t have FRIDAY and Karen (his kid was _not_ allowed to name any more AIs…seriously, _Karen?_) in cahoots to track Peter’s every movement because just the thought of the kid plunging to his death from the sky still kept him up at night. 

So a call from Peter’s suit? Tony nearly had a heart-attack as he scrambled to answer, hanging up on his head R&D scientist without so much as a by-your-leave. “Peter?” he spoke breathlessly, fingers already flying over the holograms to bring up Peter’s current GPS location and vitals.

“Oh hey!”

Tony sagged in his seat. Peter looked and sounded chipper, maybe even a little guilty, but most importantly—_not hurt._

“What’s up, kiddo?” He was proud of the fact that his voice didn’t shake, because his hands sure were. He had to prop his phone up on the table so he could face the camera and keep it steady.

“Okay, so, I know you said not to like, _do_ anything about those guys stealing the alien tech, right?” Peter smiled nervously.

Tony slowly sat up straight again, brow furrowing. _He didn’t…did he?_

Peter’s eyes darted to the side, but he kept going, “And, like, I didn’t, okay? I totally did not do anything about the guys stealing the tech, _but_, I forgot to mention there was this _other guy_ there buying the stuff, and I kinda, uh, ran into him today?”

Tony’s inner bullshit meter went off and he nearly interrupted with a sharp response, but held his tongue. If Peter hadn’t deliberately hunted this guy down, he’d eat his own suit. 

“And anyway, I figured I’d question him, just in case he knew anything, and he did! Those guys have some kinda deal going down Friday on the Staten Island Ferry, three o’clock.”

Tony closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Peter,” he interrupted quickly, before Peter could launch into any kind of explanation why he should go ‘check it out’ or some such nonsense. “I told you not to go looking for that kind of trouble.”

There was an awkward pause. Peter laughed nervously. “I just ran into him, Mr…um…Tony.” He chewed his lip, eyes darting away again.

Tony rubbed his forehead. Okay. Okay, be a good parent. Be supportive. He could do this. “Okay, just this once, then, but next time don’t engage.”

“But I found out—!”

“I know, and I’m glad you told me!” Tony interrupted quickly, trying to paste on an encouraging smile. “But as it turns out, that deal you’re talking about? Sting operation. The Feds have it covered.”

There was another awkward pause. Eventually, Peter muttered an embarrassed, “Oh…” 

Tony could see the excitement drain away. Peter looked so disappointed, that Tony found himself blurting out, “But you did good, kid, for finding out and, more importantly, _telling_ _me_. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you that it’s a sting.”

Peter perked up. “Yeah…yeah. Um… You sure the Feds can handle it?” He bit his lip again. “I mean, you didn’t see this tech, it was crazy. Really dangerous.”

“Which is why Iron Man will be on standby,” Tony said quickly, before Peter could get any ideas. Iron Man wasn’t supposed to be on stand-by, but Tony could have FRIDAY monitor the situation closely, just in case.

He could see Peter hesitate again. Jesus, what would it take to convince this kid not to take the world on his shoulders? That had to be unhealthy. Peter was _fifteen._ What did he think he could do that trained professionals and Tony himself couldn’t?

“Peter,” he said, gently, “trust me, it will be fine.”

Peter’s eyes were wide and slowly his face bobbed like he was nodding. “Oh-okay, yeah, just…could you tell me how it goes?”

Tony sighed. “Alright.”

Peter’s smile was worth it. “Thanks, Mr. Stark!”

“Tony.”

“Okay.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, and Tony realized that neither of them were ready, or willing to hang up. Tony wanted to keep talking, wanted to know how the kid had been doing beyond just those sparse few texts and his patrol reports, and maybe…maybe Peter felt the same way?

“Well, um, bye, I guess?”

“Have you spoken more with May?” Tony blurted out, before Peter could cut the connection.

Peter blinked, face innocently puzzled for a moment before he understood. “Oh! Yeah, well, I mean, some.”

Tony licked his lips. “I think I should come over to talk again…or you two could come here? Or we could go get dinner.” 

Peter looked uncertain. “Okay…I’ll ask Aunt May.”

“Good… Let me know.”

Peter nodded again. “Will do… Bye.”

This time Tony let him hang up and slumped against the table with a groan. How was he so bad at this? Why couldn’t he and Peter just have normal conversations that flowed effortlessly? Would they always be like this? Surely not.

* * *

As it turned out, the sting did _not_ go as planned. Peter had been right, and wasn’t _that _a whole other problematic kettle of fish? Peter being right about this would only make the kid think that the authorities couldn’t do their jobs and Spider-man was the only one who could. That was _not _the kind of thinking Tony was trying to foster here.

The Feds had effectively pulled off their operation up until the part where one of the men, still unidentified, had ripped his way from a van with giant metal wings and then everything had gone tits up from there. When FRIDAY had alerted him to the commotion on the Ferry, Tony had jumped for his suit and had FRIDAY deploy several more ahead of him.

When he finally got a visual on the winged crook, he would admit he saw red. For a second, he veered towards the vulture-man and his passenger, ready to tackle him down and make him pay for nearly killing his kid, but then the increased volume of screaming from the ferry, and FRIDAY’s report about the state of the ship had him directing his efforts back to the civilians.

He felt a little numb as he helped patch up the holes the thieves had shot in the hull to prevent it from sinking, and fished a few people out of the Hudson before they could drown. Had he really nearly ignored all these people in crisis just to go after the man who’d hurt Peter? 

That was Roger’s shtick, not his. Tony was the responsible one now, the one who thought ahead, who held himself accountable. And he’d nearly thrown that away for revenge. Again.

But it was Peter. That man had nearly killed _Peter._ It had almost seemed worth it.

He felt uncomfortably aware of the current parallels between his thoughts and Captain Spangles’ actions. He shoved them sharply out of mind, refusing to go there. He had more important things—_people_—to focus on right now.

Thanks to the deep-seated worry that never seemed to leave him alone anymore, Tony had FRIDAY ping Peter’s GPS and found out he was far too close to the action, perched on top of a building. After the situation on the boat was assessed and clean up was fully in the hands of the FBI, Tony shot over to Peter’s position, equal parts angry and worried sick.

Peter, in his spider suit, mask off, was jumping up and down, trying to get his attention. When Tony pulled to a hard stop over the building, Peter began an immediate babble, gesturing frantically off to the side, down the river. “Vulture man went that way! I tried to shoot him down, but he was too high and too fast, you gotta go after him!”

Tony turned to look but his HUD picked up nothing but birds. Still… The man that had hurt Peter was still out there. He gave a quiet instruction to FRIDAY to send one of the empty armors to scout that direction. If he could find and apprehend the man now, maybe it would finally get rid of that awful pit of sick worry in his stomach.

That complete, he brought the suit down to settle past the parapet, and saw Peter’s head cock. “What are you doing, he’s getting away!”

“I sent a suit,” Tony told him shortly. “Now I distinctly remember telling you to _steer clear_ of this operation, so _what_ are you doing here?”

Peter actually had the gall to cross his arms and raise his chin. “I did! I wasn’t on the Ferry, and I didn’t interfere, I just wanted to keep an eye out. Besides,” he added in a smug tone that had Tony wishing for a strong glass of _something_, “if I hadn’t been here, you wouldn’t have known where the vulture guy went.”

Tony made a noise of exasperation in the back of his throat. He wanted to yell, because he had told Peter to stay away and he hadn’t, but at the same time… What was he supposed to do now? Did he punish or reward this situation? If he told the kid good job, would he take that as permission to skirt the edges of obedience in the future? If he yelled at the kid…would he keep trusting Tony?

People said parenting was hard, but he’d had no idea it was this hard. How did May _do it?_

He tried for something in between. “Yes, I’m glad you stayed off the boat and didn’t interfere, but when I said stay away, I meant it, Peter. What if that man had come after you when he saw you and I was too busy helping save the boat to save you?” Oh god, now that he was imagining it, his heart felt like it was about to seize in his chest. 

Being a superhero wasn’t going to be the death of him, fatherhood was. Christ. 

“But…”

“_Peter._”

Peter looked away and grumbled, “You’re not even really here. You can’t…” Tony didn’t catch the rest of the mumbling, but he felt a surge of annoyance, and before he knew it, he was stepping out of the suit, expression fierce. 

Peter’s head whipped around and he took a step back in surprise. 

“Do you think I make these kinds of decisions to ruin your fun? Do you think it’s okay to put yourself in danger? These men are _dangerous._” 

Peter opened his mouth, but Tony stepped forward again, gesturing sharply. “No! You listen! They are dangerous and not afraid to hurt a kid, or even…” He swallowed sharply. “Even kill you. I knew what the risks would be and I wanted you away from this. We had it covered. I told you, one more screw up and—”

Peter surged forward, eyes frantic. “No, no, no!” His hands waved wildly. “Please, don’t take it away! I did what you said, you _can’t!_”

Tony crossed his arms and tried to stay strong. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know exactly what I meant!”

Peter’s eyes seemed to water and god, but Tony was _weak._ Something about seeing tears in the kid’s eyes made his chest tighten. “Please, Mr. Stark…Tony…_Dad!_”

Tony’s eyes widened. Peter seemed to realize what he’d done moments later, as he also stilled and stepped back, cheeks red.

Even if Peter had been trying to manipulate him, even if he had just said it in the heat of the moment, Tony could still barely breathe. ‘Dad’ was never a moniker he had ever expected to hear directed at him. Knowing Peter was his son was one thing, but hearing the kid call him _dad?_

He swallowed again, deeply. 

“‘m sorry,” Peter mumbled. “I didn’t…” He bit his lip, eyes flicking back up to meet Tony’s again, briefly. “Please don’t take the suit away.”

“Okay,” Tony found himself agreeing. Dammit. “But I’m still disappointed you put yourself in unnecessary danger.” He stepped forward, hand reaching out. “Seriously, kid, are you _trying _to give me a heart attack? Because I swear my heart keeps stopping every time I think you’re in danger. You really want to do that to the guy with the heart condition?”

Tony had been trying to impress upon Peter the gravity of the situation, but he hadn’t been entirely serious, yet Peter’s face drained of all color and he looked like he was about to be sick. 

Clearly, Tony wasn’t winning any awards for parenting today, even if he had somehow managed to get the kid to call him ‘Dad’…which he still didn’t know how to feel about. He was good for ignoring it entirely at the moment to focus on the problem of Peter constantly putting himself in danger. Except now Peter looked like he was really on the verge of tears. Real ones, not just frustrated ones. 

“I…I’m not, I promise,” Peter whispered. “I…”

Tony did something a bit uncharacteristic, but something about the kid’s face and all these new feelings that had been building for a while now, made him do it almost without thinking. He reached out and pulled the kid—his _son_—into a hug. 

It was funny that it made him feel better to have Peter right there, in his arms. He was no less safe than he had been a second ago, but it felt like it. “Peter, it’s okay. Just please, for the love of Thor’s giant hammer, _listen to me_ when I tell you to stay away from something.”

Peter was standing a bit stiffly in his arms, but then the kid relaxed and snorted in laughter. His chin pressed into Tony’s shoulder, near the crook of his neck, and his arms came up hesitantly to fist Tony’s suit jacket. He could feel Peter’s warm breath and heard him sigh. “O-okay, I’m sorry.”

Maybe he wasn’t so bad at this parenting stuff after all. Hopefully, this time, the lesson would actually stick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. So, uh, that happened. I might have been jumping the gun a little with that last scene, but...I am weak for this trope, okay? WEAK.
> 
> Tony-as-a-new-dad is so hard by the way. Just impossible. Like what's going through his head? 
> 
> Also, here's where we start getting some serious diversion from the events of Homecoming.
> 
> Also-also, since I'm sure most of you are like, Ria, why'd you take so damn long, I'll tell you. Mostly it goes like this: the holidays happened and it was busier than usual this (last?) year, then I decided to dedicate a good portion of my writing time to actively revising my original work (guysssss, i'm actually shooting for a publishing attempt this year, wish me luck!), and, uh, then I quit my job (don't worry this is a celebratory thing because that job was HELL), but that kinda means I gotta get another one and job hunting is HARD YO. Ugh. Okay, yup, that's all. 


	9. IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the author indulges in the most tropey of tropes just because.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AKA, Tony is bad at showing affection unless it's by throwing money around

### IX.

Tony didn’t often get calls from May. Usually he was the instigator of their interactions. Which is why he ended his conversation with Happy, with a quick parting, “I trust you, Hap, I’m sure it’ll go off without a hitch,” and switched the line over, exclaiming, “May! My favorite aunt! What can I do for you?”

“Hi Tony,” said May dryly. That, at least, he’d made progress on when it came to May. She felt very comfortable calling him by his first name. Peter? After the ferry incident, Peter had avoided calling him _anything_ with a dedication that was almost impressive. Tony really needed to address that, but he also felt awkward about the whole ‘Dad’ situation, so he might have been putting off that conversation. 

“So?” Tony prompted, as he wandered into the kitchen and pulled open the fridge. Late afternoon meant snack time.

“Oh, right, well, first of all, sorry this is so last minute, it just didn’t occur to me to call until I thought about it and then I figured you might want to be here for this. So, here I am, calling.”

Tony slowly closed the fridge, turning on a heel to brace against the kitchen island counter. “Be there for what?” There was no alarm in May’s tone or he would have already been rushing for the Iron Man armor. As it was, he was calculating how long it would take him to speed down from the Compound in his fastest car and was once again irritated by the distance between them. 

When he’d made the decision to move full-time to the Compound, he hadn’t anticipated having to spend so much time in Queens. That he would even _want_ to stay in the city.

Maybe he should talk to Pepper about that. 

“Oh, nothing much, just Peter’s first date! He’s taking his crush to the homecoming dance!” May laughed delightedly. In a lower voice, she whispered, “It’s adorable, he’s so nervous!”

There was a moment of surreality as Tony braced himself further against the countertop, trying to compute ‘first date’ and ‘dance’… The fact that May had even thought to call him because she didn’t think he’d want to miss the moment his son took his first crush to a dance.

Tony hadn’t gone to any school dances. He’d been barely pre-teen and focused on getting into MIT. By the time he was old enough to appreciate dances with girls, his prom days were long past and he was dragged into the world of college frat parties. In hindsight, maybe he shouldn’t have gone to college quite so young.

But Peter…Peter was getting to do all the things that Tony never could, and although Tony hadn’t had his own father around for these sorts of things, the idea of getting to be there for Peter’s first date was something he had never thought he’d want so badly until that very moment.

“Tony?”

Tony realized he had never actually responded to May. “Yeah…Yeah, I do want to be there…”

He could heard May’s grin in her reply. “I thought you might! Peter’s digging out his old suit right now, and uh, I’m betting you know how to tie a tie a whole lot better than I do. Dance moves and girl advice I can do, suits and ties? Not my forte. We tried YouTubing it, but then I thought, bet Tony knows how to tie all sorts of fancy-shmancy tie knots. You should be here.”

Tony didn’t even think, and blurted out, “_Digging out_ his _old_ suit? Please tell me you don’t mean he’s got some moth-eaten old thing he’s unearthing from a fashion grave? Kid can’t wear that to impress a girl! If he’s got a date, he needs to look snazzy!”

May was quiet for a moment and Tony wondered if maybe he’d overstepped some invisible boundary between them. Maybe he shouldn’t have implied Peter had a moth-eaten suit? But surely if he offered to pay for a new one it wouldn’t be a problem, it wasn’t like he didn’t have a boatload of money and not enough people to spend it on? Before he could reiterate that obviously, he’d be paying, May said, thoughtfully, “Well, I suppose you have a point, but it’s a bit late notice, I mean, the dance is tonight.”

Tonight was also Moving Day, come to think of it. Or, rather, the day Happy sent all of Tony’s most high tech, dangerous, highly classified, and expensive items from the lab in a specially designed stealth plane up to the Compound. But Happy had that well in hand and he had all the support he needed, which meant that Tony was free to be at the Parkers with his _son_ getting ready for his dance. Or, better yet, getting him a nice suit at the last minute because he was Tony freaking Stark and being Tony Stark better count for something, goddamnit. 

He cleared his throat. “Ah, leave that to me, just…Peter…he…he won’t mind if I show up, right?”

May’s sighed, almost gently. “Well, he didn’t say in as many words, but trust me when I say he’d love you to be there.” Her tone shifted suddenly, “I do my best, but I’m not Ben, you know? He needs a good male role model, even if he wouldn’t admit it.”

Tony swallowed again. “Yeah… I can be there…soon.” Real soon if he took a suit down and grabbed one of the company cars from SI. “Say, half-an-hour? I’ll have Fri let you know when I’m close, and I can pick you up, We’ll get short-stack a suit that’ll impress this girl he’s taking.”

Curse the distance from the Compound. Being an hour to an hour and a half drive from the City hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time, since he rarely went into the SI offices anyway, but now? Now it seemed like an impossible distance, one he needed to cheat using his Iron Man armor, which was not exactly meant to be used for personal travel, not since he had had the arc reactor removed and the suit no longer technically qualified as a prosthetic.

Oh well, he’d swing it. The UN could suck it. This was important.

“Are you sure? Stores might close soon, well, some of them will, and not to mention I don’t know if we can get something on such short notice…”

Tony snorted. “They won’t close for Tony Stark, not ever. How long’s the squirt got before he’s picking this girl up?”

“Okay.” May sounded like she was humoring him. “Well, actually I’m dropping him off and _she’s_ taking _him_.”

Tony’s eyebrows went up. “Do I get to witness this?”

“From the car, sure.”

“Right, not missing this for the world,” Tony grinned. Peter’s first date? A high school dance? Helping Peter buy a suit? He hadn’t ever thought such disgustingly domestic things would actually have him running for his bedroom and flinging his closet open to change out of his greasy t-shirt, but there he was, doing exactly that. “See you in half an hour, be ready to go!”

“Tony, I don’t think—”

“Nuh-uh, no way, we are absolutely going to get him something nice.”

May sighed. “Normally, I wouldn’t agree, but…I get it. These are milestones. We’ll be waiting.”

Tony paused between buttoning up his jacket and yanking on a pair of pants not covered in oil and spark burns. “Thanks.” He was glad she got it, that she wasn’t denying him this. Just the thought of getting to help Peter get ready for his dance, for actually being there and _helping_… Well, it felt a lot like happiness. God, he was getting sappy in his old age. 

May hung up and Tony finished dressing, power-walking to the Iron Man launch pad. On the way he barked orders to FRIDAY, “Fri, I need you to look at what’s hot on Fifth Av. I need suits for a teenager going to a dance, something nice, but not too much. I’m talking semi-formal date nice, not red carpet exclusive nice. It’ll have to be off the rack, but call them up and see who is willing to do last minute tailoring.” He didn’t even wait for FRIDAY to answer before taking off for the city.

On the stealth flight down from the Compound, Tony put in another call to Pepper, one he’d been meaning to make but had put off because both of them had been too busy, and this latest incident only reminded him that, actually, he needed to sort this out _tonight_. 

Naturally, Pepper wasn’t too happy to be interrupted during her busy work day, but Tony wasn’t going to take no for an answer. She was equally unhappy when she heard his reason, namely that he had decided that he was moving back to the city. 

What else was he supposed to do? Not see Peter? Constantly use the Iron Man suit to get to Peter when he needed him for non-life threatening events? He might be able to get away with that one a few times, but every time he needed to be there for his kid at the drop of a hat and he was too far away and he _missed another milestone?_

No thank you.

The Avengers base could remain at the Compound, and Tony could drive up whenever he needed, but Peter was here in Queens, and that’s where Tony had decided he wanted to be. The team was important, but so was Peter, and frankly, between the two of them, Peter needed a lot more guidance than the grown-ass men and women who made up the world’s best defense team.

Besides, the hour to hour-and-a-half drive it normally took to get from the Compound to Queens was not time Tony was willing to waste.

So Pepper was upset, but fortunately understanding. Part of that might have been because she herself spent a large amount of time in the city, and this would make it easier to have lunches and dinners together more frequently. It would actually do their relationship good. 

It would not do the company, or his finances good. 

She (rightly) pointed out that Tony was having all his lab components and materials moved to the Compound, which meant he’d either be unable to work on his inventions while in the city, or he’d have to build another lab. An unnecessary, wasteful expense.

That made Tony wonder if selling the Tower was really a good idea. SI’s New York offices were already stationed there, the infrastructure for the labs and the security was already there. Sure, it was mostly for security and good press—popular opinion was clear, no one wanted the Avengers headquarters right smack in the middle of such a bustling metropolis—and at the time it had seemed sensible to just…move _everything _out. But now he wondered…why build something new when he had something that already worked?

Pepper did not like that plan. Vehemently. They were getting a _lot _of money for the Tower, especially the top floors, but Tony wasn’t a genius billionaire superhero inventor for nothing. “I’ll work on brand new models of Stark tech, and refine some of my other, more commercial tech. You think I can’t invent something that’ll have the shareholders salivating? They won’t even care about the Tower after that.”

Pepper sighed heavily over the phone line. “You’d better. I want a prototype in less than a month, Tony.”

That would put a little kink in his plans to have Peter’s newest suit up and running and fully kitted and tested within the next few weeks, but he could manage. He was Tony Stark, he always managed. 

“Deal.”

* * *

May and Peter were already waiting outside when Tony pulled up in the Rolls Royce he’d ‘borrowed’ from SI. Peter automatically reached for the front door, but then hesitated and when May pulled open the back, he slid in beside her. May was looking around the car in fascination and Tony spared a moment to glance over his shoulder and grin over the top of his sunglasses. “Welcome, as a rare treat, I, Tony Stark, shall be your chauffeur for the evening.”

Both May and Peter rolled their eyes. Tony affected a put upon expression although it was difficult to hide the swell of affection. It was nice when people could look past the famous exterior and appreciate Tony’s humor without getting all tongue-tied or starstruck.

“Thanks for driving us,” Peter blurted out after a second to appreciate Tony’s wit. “Uh, you didn’t have to.”

Tony’s grin widened. “Don’t mention it. No, really, don’t. Pepper absolutely does not need to know I’m shirking any duties right now, or that I commandeered this car.” At the immediate worry that creased Peter’s face, Tony added quickly, “Not that I’m missing anything important, not at all. Pepper just likes to nag.”

Was he throwing Pepper under the bus? Absolutely. Was she going to kill him for it if Peter ever said anything to her? Probably. Was it going to be worth the extra sleepless nights he’d spend making up to her? Also a definite yes.

May shot him a quelling look and Tony wisely stopped digging his hole deeper. She then pulled out what looked like a shopping list instead and said, “Okay, so I’ve got a list of places we can try first that are probably still open, but I think our best bet is probably just to head to a department store like Macy’s. They’ll have the biggest selection and probably a sale. Sound good, Pete?”

Peter was nodding excitedly, eyes bright, but Tony, who had been about to pull away from the curb, shoved his foot back on the brake and turned around, mouth open. “_Macy’s?_”

Both Peter and May looked at him blankly. 

Tony spluttered. “You want to go to _Macy’s?_”

May’s eyebrows drew together. “And what is wrong with Macy’s? It’s a homecoming dance, not a wedding. We don’t need anything too fancy, and Macy’s sells good quality for a good price.” Her tone turned dry, “We’re not all billionaires like you, Tony.”

Tony stared at her and wondered what was wrong with May Parker. Wasn’t the entire reason she agreed to this so he could do his part as Peter’s father and provide the money necessary to get him a nice suit? Wasn’t that the whole _point?_ He had money, Peter was his son, ergo, he should do his fatherly duty and spend it on good quality clothes so Peter could walk into that dance feeling like a million bucks.

Otherwise, what was even the point of Tony being here? To offer fashion advice? Well, he supposed he could do that…

“I mean, we could try somewhere else first, maybe?” Peter offered hesitantly. “I mean, if this isn’t what you wanted to do, that’s cool, I still have my other suit, I can go—”

Tony reached up and whipped off the glasses, glad the side windows on the car were tinted so no one could alert the press that it was Tony Stark driving that fancy Rolls Royce. “Okay, what, no, of course I want to do this, why wouldn’t I?”

“‘Cause you’ve got better things to do and ‘cause it’s just clothes shopping. It’s not a big deal, I got a suit already, it’s good.” Peter scuffed his foot against the carpet in the spacious backseat. His eyes dropped again, while May peered worriedly between them, clutching her purse. _Note to self,_ Tony thought, _get May a nicer handbag for her birthday. Second note to self, find out her birthday_.

Tony rubbed his face, making yet another note of the fact that he probably needed to tidy up his goatee because it was feeling a little rough. “No, that’s not my objection. I thought the whole point was that _I_ was taking _you_ shopping, so why would we go to _Macy’s?_” 

May’s frown turned puzzled. “You are taking us, and what’s wrong with Macy’s? It’s well-priced and has a wide selection, plus it stays open later.”

Tony huffed. “No, no, no, listen up. Me, Tony Stark, billionaire.” He jabbed a finger at himself.“Billionaires do not shop at _Macy’s._ Jesus Christ, they barely even tailor. Peter can’t go to a dance wearing an un-tailored sack!”

May’s blank expression was a little unnerving. Peter just looked confused, as he glanced between them. “Then…are we going to Nordstroms?”

Slowly, Tony turned back around and finally put the car in gear to pull away from the curb. He slid his glasses back on. “Okay, know what, I’ll just take us there and then you’ll see.”

“Take us where?” May asked after a pause. Tony’s eyes tilted to see her face in the rearview mirror. She looked…he couldn’t figure out the expression on her face. It was like she was concerned, or maybe contemplative. “Tony, you realize that Peter and I _aren’t _billionaires, right?” 

Tony tried to keep his eyes on the road. He was a great multi-tasker, but this was his _kid_ in the back-seat so careful driving was paramount. He suddenly understood now why some drivers were annoying defensive, especially the ones with ‘Baby on Board’ stickers. “But I am, and obviously I’m paying, and so obviously that doesn’t matter. Peter can and will get the best available.” He glanced at Peter in the mirror. Kid’s eyes were wide like saucers; it was cute. “I mean, he’s got a date, he needs to impress. What’s this girl’s name anyway? She hot?”

Peter’s mouth was now open in a large oh shape. “I…what?”

“Her name is Liz,” May offered.

Peter squeaked. “May!”

Tony’s eyebrows rose. “Liz? Sounds smart. Okay, spill, mini-me, what’s the four-one-one, or whatever it is you kids say these days?”

“Oh my god, no, please stop,” Peter covered his face.

May started laughing. “She’s a _senior_, and very popular and smart, at least, that’s what I gathered.”

Tony raised one hand up in the universal gesture of success. “Kid, high-five. Clearly you inherited the Stark charm.”

Peter did not high-five him, but rather flushed further. “I don’t…It’s not like that, okay, it was a total fluke! I just got lucky ‘cause Liz didn’t have a date and I happened to ask.”

Tony exchanged a look with May, and she smiled and shrugged. He put both hands back on the wheel. “Kid, everyone is just getting lucky all the time, you just gotta own it when you do. Confidence is key. And confidence always starts with knowing you look awesome, which is why we’re gonna get you an awesome suit and you’re gonna knock this girl’s socks off.”

In the mirror, Tony saw May give him a surreptitious thumbs up. Peter looked dubious, but when May only nodded encouragingly and voiced her agreement, he settled back, looking thoughtful. 

This…this was good. Tony cleared his throat. “So, how are you feeling about the dance? Know what you’re gonna do and say?”

Peter fussed with his jacket sleeves and shrugged. “Cool. I’m cool.”

“We’ve already talked about the dos and don’ts,” May said cheerfully. “I ran down to the local flower shop and picked up a corsage. We’ve practiced our dance moves. Just gotta make sure he’s looking sharp and we’re good to go.”

Tony quickly squashed that tiny bit of jealousy that insisted he should have also gotten to experience those things with Peter. “Dos and don’ts, huh?”

Peter nodded quickly and began to recite back what was clearly a list of things he was supposed to do to win over this Liz girl’s favor. It sounded like he’d practiced it extensively. His lips quirked when May and Peter both seemed to agree that complimenting this poor girl too much would be considered ‘creepy’. Then again, what did he know about teenagers, maybe it would be. Would it? He’d have to ask Pepper.

“Okay, okay, but also don’t forget, the ladies love the funny guy,” Tony threw in at the end. 

“Sure, if it’s the right kind of humor,” May smirked. “No jokes in poor taste and you’re good.”

“Yeah, no, absolutely,” Peter agreed, then stopped to peer out the window. “Where exactly are we?”

“Fifth Avenue.” Tony peered impatiently down the street and resisted the urge to honk his horn. It wouldn’t get them where they needed to be any faster. “So I’m thinking either Givenchy or Armani, or wait, no, Givenchy’s too bold. Armani _could_ work, but maybe Boss is better? What do you think?” On the car ride over, FRIDAY had sent him a list of five stores with age appropriate, ready-to-wear suits who were also available for a quick tailoring job if necessary.

“What on earth is a Givenchy, it sounds like a type of pasta,” Peter muttered to May. 

“I don’t know, but he said it in the same sentence as _Armani,_” May replied back, squinting suspiciously at Tony through the rearview mirror. 

Tony flashed them both a grin. “That’s because they, like Armani, make good, ready-to-wear suits for the discerning young adult.” He jerked a thumb at Peter. “Like that one right there. But I’m thinking Boss or Armani might be more his style.”

Peter licked his lips. “Uhh, okay, but like they’re kind of expensive, you know?”

“Please, expensive would be a bespoke made-to-measure suit, off-the-rack is always cheap,” Tony assured them. It wasn’t like they had time for a tailored suit, although now that he was thinking about it, maybe he should find the time to get Peter to the tailor’s, just in case. 

Assuming Peter ever wanted to appear in public with him, which he probably shouldn’t be encouraging. The media could be animals, no need to expose the poor boy to all that hell. Note to self: talk to Pepper about PR mitigation.

“Okay, no opinions? I’m voting Boss, because they’re trendy and more your style. Objections? No, great, then that’s where we’ll start. FRIDAY?” He tapped his watch-face and there was a pause before he heard FRIDAY’s voice come out of the tiny speakers.

“Yes, Boss?”

“Tell Boss we’re heading over.”

“Sure thing, _Boss_.”

“I don’t recall programming you with that much sass.”

“You should see a doctor about that,” FRIDAY responded sweetly. 

In the back, Peter snorted and gasped in an attempt not to laugh. 

“I’m surrounded by traitors on all sides,” Tony mumbled, with an aggrieved tone. When he caught sight of Peter’s wide grin in the back seat, he barely hid his own smile. 

Ahead of them, the lights finally turned green and cars pulled ahead just enough to give Tony space to pull over to the sidewalk near one of Fifth Avenue’s pricey hotels, where a valet waited to jump to service. Picking Boss might also have been decided by its proximity to the hotel and the fact that they wouldn’t have to walk far or possibly get spotted.

“Alright, finally, out, out.” He swapped out his current sunglasses for something a bit more outrageous, and decided against the baseball cap. It would only scream ‘celebrity, trying to hide’ as soon as he walked into the store. When he ducked out of the car, he tossed the keys to the valet and pulled a hundred from his pocket clip. “We’re going shopping, we’ll be back in a few hours.”

The valet opened his mouth to protest that the hotel parking was for guests only (Tony knew exactly what he’d say), until he happened to glance down at the hundred and promptly changed his mind. “Absolutely sir.”

“Thanks. There’s another one of those when we get back.” Tony patted the man’s shoulder as they exchanged places and the valet slid into the front seat of the car.

He hadn’t even noticed it was Tony, so clearly off to a good start. 

He wasn’t stupid, or naive, he knew the anonymity couldn’t last. Peter would have to decide how much of his life he wanted to live in the spotlight, although Tony would do his absolute hardest to make sure no media or paps would cause his kid too much hassle. It paid to not make an enemy of Tony Stark, and while Tony had never really come down hard on them for himself, too used to the spotlight and the privacy intrusion, for Peter? He’d come down like a ton of vibranium and the full force of his very expensive lawyers.

Tony led the way down the street with May keeping pace and Peter trailing behind, gaping at the large, impressive store fronts. You’d think the kid had never been down Fifth Avenue before. He weaved around the other pedestrians expertly, having enough purpose to just blend in with the rest of the crowd without looking like he was trying to hide or run from something.

“Keep up, kiddo!”

Peter had fallen back quite a few yards and had to run to slip a gap between two slow moving pedestrians in order to catch up. May peered over her shoulder, then whipped her head around and tilted her chin down, leaning in towards Tony as they walked. “Tony…please don’t go overboard with this, okay? I understand you want to be a part of this, but I don’t want Peter to suddenly start expecting to own lots of expensive things. I don’t want him getting materialistic.”

Tony kept his eyes on the prize, but pursed his lips in a frown at May’s words. “Price isn’t an object, May, that’s just the way things are for me. It’s…” He glanced at her from behind tinted lenses. “It’s not about the _price_ anyway_, _it’s just…not a consideration.”

“Right,” May whispered quickly, because Peter was definitely catching up. “But it might not mean anything to you, but it will to him. Just…try not to throw money around too much, please.”

“I want him to have a _nice_ suit,” Tony argued, unwilling to cave. “It’s not like I’m buying him a fifty thousand dollar bespoke or something.” And definitely scratching that plan, for now. He’d revisit the tailoring another time, maybe after he’d had time to warm May to the idea.

May clutched at her bag, holding it against her chest like a shield. “Oh my god, can a suit really cost that much?”

Tony nearly laughed. May Parker had _no idea_ how much some things could really cost, especially tailored suits. He swallowed back the humor, because he had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate him laughing at her like that. “Absolutely.”

“Oh.” May looked a little dazed and Tony reached for her elbow to guide her towards the Hugo Boss storefront. 

“We’re here. Pete?”

Peter popped up suddenly between them. “We’re here?”

The security man hired to watch the storefront nodded at Tony, then held open the door, reaching for his earpiece and muttering into it softly. Tony ushered May and Peter inside, noting the few other customers wandering around, most of them only there to window shop and gape at the prices, but a few genuinely there to purchase as well. He kept the small group off to the side, making sure not to wander, and headed for the back of the store, where an employee in a smart suit jacket, blouse, and skirt combo was walking towards them, eyes fixed on Tony.

“Mr. Stark?” she questioned, voice low to keep away undue attention. “If you’ll follow me?”

Not many people knew that stores like this had private viewing rooms in the back if you were rich and important enough to request one. Tony was both, and as requested, someone had already started pulling a rack of ready-wear suits fit for a young adult of Peter’s measurements (good girl, FRIDAY). Peter and May followed in wide-eyed astonishment as they disappeared into the back of the store and came upon a small sitting area and the rack of suits, along with a changing cubicle.

Tony collapsed down on one of the chairs and pulled off his sunglasses, tucking them into his jacket pocket. He rubbed his hands together. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road!”

May seated herself hesitantly, placing her handbag down beside her and still looking around like she wasn’t sure what was going on. Peter hovered between them, eyes darting between Tony, May, and the rack of suits. The saleswoman had disappeared, but soon returned with an older gentleman. 

“Mr. Stark,” the man greeted, jumping quickly to work, “We pulled the selection of styles most young adults would find palatable.” His gaze swung to Peter fidgeting in his ratty jeans and jacket. “I assume this is the young man in question?”

“Yup.”

Peter stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Peter.” Tony tried not to laugh. God, this kid.

The man shook it, bemused. “Daniel.”

With that out of the way, it was a whirlwind thirty minutes as Peter went through each suit on the rack, and where necessary Daniel went to fetch a different size. Since FRIDAY had helpfully provided Peter’s measurements ahead of time, that was only necessary twice. While Tony gave his very expert opinion on each suit fit, May mostly just exclaimed about how handsome Peter looked in almost all the suits bar a few.

“Anything tickle your fancy, kiddo?” Tony asked when Peter came back out in the last suit. “We still have time to go somewhere else.”

Peter chewed his lip and stared at himself in the mirror. “The…second one I tried on?”

Daniel was already whisking it back to the dressing room. Tony gestured him over while Peter went to change yet again. “What do you have for ties and accessories?”

They paired a black suit jacket and pant with a silky light gray shirt and a thin red tie and Peter couldn’t stop twisting and turning in the mirror, eyes wide with delight, but Tony was unsatisfied. He gestured. “I still think you could do something about the fit. I’ll triple your tailoring fee to get it done now.”

Peter looked up in surprise. “What? No, it’s fine, seriously!”

Tony ignored him. Daniel only nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll be right back.”

Peter struggled with the buttons on the jacket as Daniel hurried off. He shot May a helpless look and she jumped up to help. “Seriously, it’s fine as it is,” he insisted over May’s shoulder. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Keep that on, the tailor will want to pin it.”

May took a step back and shot a frown over her shoulder. “Tony, I really think this is enough.”

“It’s really, really not.” For god’s sake, Peter barely had anything to call his own. He and May lived in a tiny apartment in Queens and Tony could swear the kid couldn’t have more than a dozen different sweaters and only a few pairs of shoes. Honestly, he’d buy half the damn store if he thought he could get away with it. 

He was Peter’s father. Fathers were supposed to provide. He had a lot of providing to catch up on. 

Another fifteen minutes later and Peter was back in his original clothes while they waited for the adjustments to be done in-house. Unfortunately, the tailoring was going to be a bit of a rush job, but it would hold up for the night and then Tony could get it sent to his usual tailor for a better fit. 

One of the salespeople had come by and offered refreshments, which Tony noticed made May and Peter both stutter and blush.

Tony wanted to make casual conversation with Peter and May, but was leery of revealing too much in front of the salespeople at Boss. As it was, Tony had standing agreements with most of the high end stores on Fifth Avenue not to make waves when he was in the area or shopping, and reputable stores tended to come down _hard _on their salespeople who didn’t respect a shopper’s privacy, but there was no telling if someone would find the fact that Tony was out and about with two strangers, one of which was a teenager, a bit too much for their curiosity and try to sell a story to the tabloids.

So he let Peter and May make quiet conversation while they waited and instead tapped out a few emails to Pepper detailing the trip to pass on to PR and Legal (Pepper was probably going to murder him, oh well, he wasn’t going to live like Peter was his dirty little secret because he _wasn’t_), and also to ask if PR had anything concrete for him to present to Peter and May about their potential future in the spotlight.

The sooner they arranged contingencies for any potential fallout, the better.

There was no price tag attached to the suits, and Tony didn’t bother asking. When they brought the suit back, Peter tried it on one more time to check, and Tony quietly pulled the man aside and told him to bill him the costs of everything. Peter and May were too busy exclaiming the fit in the mirrorand striking silly poses, and missed the entire exchange.

They headed out, Peter practically vibrating with excitement and thanking him every other breath, and Tony decided the entire endeavor had been completely worth it to have that shining grin and praise directed his way. He’d buy Peter ten dozen suits and everything else his little heart desired if it would always be accompanied with that much enthusiastic joy. 

“Seriously, thank you,” Peter said once more when they were back in the car.

Tony exchanged a glance with May before turning to look Peter in the eye. “_Seriously,_ don’t mention it. It was nothing, and you deserve it.”

Peter was quiet for a bit. After maybe five minutes, he spoke up, and Tony nearly put his foot on the brakes in surprise at his next words, “You know you don’t have to like, buy me nice things to make me like you, right?”

Okay, wow. Tony cleared his throat. “Of course, don’t be ridiculous, that’s not what I’m doing. Who told you that’s what I was doing?”

Peter’s hands were tight around the seatbelt and his eyes widened. “Uhhh…no one, just…just checking.”

Tony shot a suspicious glance at May, but the woman revealed nothing. For the record, it was absolutely not what he was doing. Tony Stark didn’t need to _buy_ people’s affection. Probably why he had so few real friends, but it also didn’t mean that he didn’t like to _show_ his affection by buying the people he cared about nice things. There was a distinction there. 

He waited until they were parked back at the apartment before he stopped Peter from getting out of the car. Peter held the shopping bag to his side and glanced warily at Tony’s outstretched arm, like he thought maybe Tony was about to take it all back. Ridiculous. “Peter, listen, I’m not trying to buy you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to provide you with nice things because I can and you deserve to have nice things.”

Peter nodded slowly. “Okay.” He slid out and waited outside, but May grabbed Tony’s arm before he could reach for his own door and he turned back.

“Thank you for clarifying that.” She smiled. “Although…I think we should probably talk about what kinds of things are appropriate, like, oh, for example, no Ferraris for his sixteenth, things like that, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement?”

“Sure,” Tony agreed quickly. He wanted to buy Peter nice things, not ridiculous things. Who bought a sixteen year old kid a Ferrari anyway? An idiot, that’s who. 

Tony already knew he was buying Peter a _safe_ car, reinforced, crash-proof, fully equipped and personally modified to integrate with FRIDAY and his suits. Obviously. 

May’s smile was relieved. “Great.”

Back in the apartment, Peter scrambled to shower, then came back out, suit on, looking nervous but dashing, and holding out his tie with wide, pleading eyes. Tony felt a lump in his throat when he moved to help him tie the perfect knot, because his father had never done this for him, but Jarvis had, and now he was doing it with his own son. Who would have ever imagined? 

May helped pin the corsage and Peter held onto Liz’s one with a delicate grip, like he was afraid of crushing it (a legitimate fear for Spider-man). She stepped back with Tony, beaming. “I think you’re ready.” She glanced between Tony and Peter. “I think this calls for photos.”

Tony shuffled hesitantly to go stand next to Peter as May fetched the camera. At first he just stood there, close but not too close, but then May kept motioning them closer together until finally, Tony dared to put his arm around Peter’s shoulder. He held his breath, waiting for the kid to shrug it off, but Peter only grinned at the camera and Tony honestly felt about ten feet tall. It was ridiculous, but true.

“Okay, my turn!” May waved the camera at him. 

Tony wasn’t a professional photographer but he thought he did fairly okay. May and Peter also did a bunch of stupid faces and silly poses that made him snort, and then May declared they _had _to do a ‘family photo’.

He froze. May approached him with bright eyes, then gently pulled the camera out of his hands. Shecaught his eye and there was understanding on her face. Everyone knew the Tony Stark story. Pepper and Happy and Rhodey were his family now, ever since Obie’s betrayal, but this…this was unexpected. Peter was _blood_, and sure, May was Peter’s family in turn, but that was a tentative connection still.

He knew that if he hadn’t had that piece of paper telling him Peter was his son he wouldn’t be here now. Blood had connected them more deeply, had brought them together, but Tony knew all too well that blood wasn’t all that made a family. The fact that May was willing to open her arms and accept him as _family_ was something he knew she hadn’t needed to do. They could have been friendly acquaintances at best.

No wonder Peter was such a good kid, with someone like May to raise him. 

Tony’s heart fluttered in his chest like a panicked rabbit while May set up the camera on a timer. Peter shifted in place impatiently and kept offering suggestions and rolling his eyes when May proclaimed she ‘had it, just keep your pants on’.

It took a moment for Tony to relax enough not to stand like he would at a press conference. Peter was sandwiched between him and May and he hoped the kid didn’t notice. The camera counted down. Tony managed to smile. 

They took one more ‘family style’, and then Peter was impatiently herding them out the door, back to Tony’s car. 

Was this how all families did this? Took private pictures before big events to commemorate, rather than just wait for official press photos and family portraits? If so, he had to admit, it was a lot more fun this way. 

May sat in the front with Tony, while Peter slid into the middle back seat, corsage on his lap. May gave directions, which took them to an area of the island that appeared far more suburban. Even Tony had to be impressed by the houses on this Liz girl’s street. “What does this girl’s father do, again?” he muttered, peering at the giant, modern house up the steep driveway. 

May ignored him and twisted around, beginning to hype Peter up for his big night. “Okay, it’s game time, so run me through the play, one more time.”

Peter’s gaze darted between them and then down to the corsage. He took a deep breath. “Open the door for her, tell her she looks nice, but…not too much because that’s creepy…”

“Don’t be creepy,” May agreed.

“Just don’t use the word ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ or ‘banging’ and you’ll be fine,” Tony added and Peter shot him a frown. 

May put a hand near Tony’s face and pushed him away. Rude. “Shhh. Peter, what else?”

“When I dance with her, I put my hands on her hips.”

May gave him a thumbs up. Behind May’s hand, Tony complained, “It’s a high school dance, not a bar mitzvah.”

“Don’t listen to your father,” May responded automatically, “You got this.”

All three of them froze for a beat or two as May’s offhanded comment registered. Then Peter was groping for the door, looking flustered. “Uh, yeah. Yeah. Bye. Love you…” he trailed off, eyes darting from May to Tony, and for a moment Tony pretended that Peter had meant that for him, too.

“Go!” May insisted, waving her hands and grinning. 

Peter ducked out and shut the door. Tony and May watched him walk purposefully up the walk to the house and then May settled back with a sigh. “God, they grow up so fast.” She slid a glance towards Tony. “If I made things awkward back there, I didn’t—”

“No,” Tony interrupted quickly, cutting her off. May watched him with knowing eyes and a small smile. “No, it’s… Thank you.” That was all he really could say. May hadn’t needed to include him so much, and getting to experience this normal part of Peter’s life had been eye-opening.

“Thank _you_ for the suit,” May said dryly. “I’ve never seen him look so confident before.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed absently, as he squinted up the walk. Had Peter made it inside yet? “A good suit does that, it’s like armor, in it’s own way.”

May nudged his shoulder. “Alright, come on, let’s get outta here before someone calls the cops on us. Coupl’a weirdos casing the joint in a suspicious-looking car with tinted windows?” Her eyebrow went up and her lip curled in a smirk. 

Tony snorted, but he put the car back in gear and headed down the street. He did a loop around the neighborhood to get back to the main street, and once they were well on their way back, May spoke up again, “I don’t know how busy you are,” _Astronomically,_ Tony thought, but didn’t say, “but you can stay for a cup of coffee before you head back. Maybe we can have that talk.”

That was actually not a bad idea. Tony needed to talk to May about the publicity as well, preferably before telling Peter. As his full-time guardian, May would know best how to approach the situation with the kid. “Good idea.”

He thought briefly of checking in with Happy. He should be loading the plane by now, at least. Maybe even nearly done. He’d shoot off a text when they got back to the Parker place. Happy had this well in hand, Tony trusted him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I struggled whether to do this one from Tony or Peter's perspective, but in the end I went with Tony because, let's face it, his totally lack of experience with what is considered _normal_ would be funnier. And just in case anyone's worried, Peter and May are **not** poor, Tony just really does not know how to put things into perspective, poor guy.
> 
> Also, I hope this tropey ridiculousness was able to cheer some people up. I may have gone a little overboard on it, but let's face it, we all need some cliché ridiculousness in our lives right now.
> 
> In other news, I feel like I need to take a moment to write a coronavirus PSA. If you would rather not be confronted with anything covid right now, please don't feel obliged to read this, but I just wanted to make my opinion heard, which is: The world is going through something totally insane right now, and all of us are coming together on this platform in different ways to try to get through it, but we're all in different circumstances and all have different struggles and realities we need to face with our unique situation, which is why I think it's really super important right now that we are all being supportive of content creators who _are_ posting/creating more and also the ones who _aren't_. Let's just all be kind, encouraging, and understanding right now!


	10. X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Vulture makes his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a little while, sorry guys. I guess I'm one of those writers that gets terribly uninspired when the world goes to shit. Please stay safe out there. Anyway, happy belated father's day. Have a bunch of IronDad feels. 
> 
> But do keep in mind, this is the vulture chapter, so shit happens (I mean, not much worse than the movie, but still), in case you're not in the mood for that kind of thing right now, then save this for a rainy day instead, or skip the first 2 scene breaks and start at the top of the third scene for the aftermath.

### X.

He wasn’t expecting the phone call. He and May had only just started discussing logistics—although May was being just a little ridiculous with her restrictions. No presents worth more than a couple hundred bucks? Was she insane? That ruled out basically everything exciting!—when Tony’s phone started ringing. The fact that the number that lit up the screen said it was _Unknown_ who was calling, but a _local_ unknown, as in Queens, had him temporarily frozen. He only knew two people in Queens, and one was sitting across from him. 

In the end, he panicked, lied to May, said it was urgent, and asked if he could take the call somewhere private. May directed him to Peter’s room (and boy did the kid need to clean up this mess), where Tony finally answered the call.

“Oh thank god, Mr. Stark!”

That was not Peter, the only other person he knew in Queens. This was some random kid. 

“Who the hell are you and how did you get this number?” Tony snapped immediately. 

“Whoa! Crap! Sorry, I mean, no, wait, it’s Ned! I mean, Peter’s friend, Ned, I mean, oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening…”

“Stop, breathe,” Tony interrupted quickly. He rubbed his forehead and tried to remember if Peter had mentioned some kid called Ned. 

“Ned, why are you calling me?”

“Oh, right! Peter’s in trouble!”

Tony’s heart seized. “What! Next time, lead with that!” Jesus, people needed to get their priorities straight! “Where is he? No, wait, I’ll activate the tracker…” Tony trailed off, a sense of dawning horror overtaking him as he realized that Peter didn’t _have_ his suit with him, because he’d been on his way to a date. Which meant that he had none of Tony’s failsafes or his tracker. “Ted, kid, _where is Peter?_”

“Uh, it’s Ned—”

“WHERE!” 

“R-right, he went after the vulture dude! I…I don’t know, okay. Like, all I know is that he was freaked out because of something, uh… Oh, right, he said to call Happy and tell him about the evil vulture dude, but then like I tried, right, but he hung up on me, so then I was like, but what if I call _Iron Man_ himself, because like, you’re Peter’s _dad_ so obviously you won’t hang up on me and, oh, hold on—”

The line suddenly went quiet and Tony spared a moment to marvel at the fact that he’d been _put on hold_ after a terrible, long-winded, rambling explanation of _nothing _and all the while, apparently Peter was _in danger _and if he was hearing this right, from the damned Vulture!

He dashed out of Peter’s room, phone still pressed to his ear. May whirled around, hand going to her chest. “Sorry, May! Emergency came up at work, I’ll have to come back another day.” 

As poor of an explanation as it was, he was Tony Stark and an Avenger, so May didn’t even question it. He felt terrible—Peter was in danger and here she had no idea at all, but first he was going to go save his kid, and then he was going to go rip him a new one. In that order precisely. 

He got in the car, after taking the stairs far too fast for a man his age—note to self, step up the cardiovascular—and the line crackled again just as he was revving the engine. 

“Oh, man, this is not good, sorry, Mr. Stark, sir, please don’t be mad about that, but I had to help Peter, see he stole Flash’s car—which, _totally_ _awesome!_—and he’s chasing this guy using his phone, cause he left it in the guy’s car as a tracker, and—”

Tony’s fingers were already flashing. He tapped the car’s screen interface, using his fingerprint to activate FRIDAY, who had a backdoor into _all _Stark Industries owned tech, thank you very much, Protocol Skynet, and announced, “FRIDAY, track Peter’s cellphone’s GPS and send the suit.”

“Yes, Boss.”

“—and _whoa, _did I just hear an AI? Like, your AI that you built? Oh my god, this is the best day of my _life_.”

“Ned,” Tony interrupted, “focus.”

“Ok, so yeah, Peter’s like, at this warehouse now, cause he said that this vulture dude is gonna steal from you big time. Like, all the most valuable things.”

Tony closed his eyes and breathed for a second, because seriously, why couldn’t Ned have _lead_ with that information? What was high school teaching kids these days? He glanced at the map on the dashboard, where FRIDAY had just interfaced with Peter’s phone and dropped a pin and calculated the fastest route, put the car into a lower gear, and cut across two lanes to make a last second left turn on an orange light. He ignored the angry honking behind him, he had more important things to worry about. For example, “Why did Peter decide to go after this _very dangerous man_ on his _own?_”

“Uhhhh… Should I ask him? Lemme ask him…” Ned’s voice grew muffled for a moment, then he came back. “Uh, yeah, no, can’t reach him.”

Tony felt his heart crawl into his throat, and stepped on the gas, shooting through another orange light just turning red. He’d pay whatever traffic fines came his way, but time was of the essence. He was at least a good ten minutes away, even at this speed and with FRIDAY tracking traffic.

Through gritted teeth, he demanded, “Ned, tell me everything.”

According to Peter’s very excitable best friend, Ned, the vulture man found Peter, threatened him, and then announced he was going after Tony’s more dangerous and pricey tech, which meant that this guy was probably going to go after the stuff on the plane…but how? The plane should be in the air already, totally camouflaged. Or maybe this guy was going to try to hit one of the vans, or even maybe the Tower… He needed more information!

“FRIDAY, call Happy, tell him that, A, someone is after the goods and B, we’re going to _talk_ about hanging up on Peter and Peter’s friends in an emergency.”

Tony lost Ned shortly after, when he apparently got caught at the school computers during the dance and blurted out he was there to watch porn, rather than (illegally) hack several different phone companies. He was reluctantly impressed. This kid was really going the extra mile for Peter. That kind of loyalty was a rare and precious thing and should be acknowledged. He’d figure out some kind of reward later, after he’d saved Peter. Maybe send this Ned kid a prototype of something, since he clearly had the smarts, even if he obviously lacked some worldly experience and the ability to prioritize.

When he got to the location from which Peter’s phone was pinging, Tony had expected to see a warehouse, what he was not expecting to see was a pile of rubble that _used_ to be a warehouse. The car screeched to a halt as he slammed on the brakes, and stumbled out, knuckles tight around the edge of the door. The Iron Man suit he’d used to reach the city earlier came swooping out of the sky and hovered next to him. 

It spoke, “Scanning. Boss, there’s a heat signature in there, small.”

Tony forgot how to breathe. Oh god. There was something heavy on his chest. Oh god, please _no!_ “S-suit!” The suit folded around him and he shot off straight for the small warm blip he could now see with the suit’s head display, which was horrifyingly buried under mounds of concrete. With the suit’s enhanced auditory capabilities, he could also hear something that both filled him with pure relief and horror. He could hear the gasping sobs. He called out, heart in his throat, “Peter? PETER!”

He hovered over the concrete, suit running calculations on the right angle to grab and lift it away without causing the other slabs to collapse. His fingers shook within their metal confines. If not for the suit and FRIDAY, he probably wouldn’t even be able to stand on his own two legs right now. The last time he’d felt such terror was the time he thought Pepper had been thrown to her death into a blazing inferno, and yet somehow this was worse, because it was _his kid_ trapped down there, buried until tons of concrete, crying. 

“D-dad? H-help! Please!” Peter’s voice was raw and panicked. 

Was he having a heart attack? It felt like he was having a heart attack. Tony tried to breathe. “Come on, Fri, where do I lift? Hurry up! Peter? I’m coming! Just hold on!”

Finally, FRIDAY highlighted a section of rubble and Tony dove, jamming the suit’s metal fingers between the concrete and twisted metal and locking the metal joints, then, with the force of his thrusters, he pulled straight up and away. The concrete shifted dangerously, and some smaller pieces fell with a clatter. The sobbing had stopped, but Tony could only just hear an echo of Peter’s panicked breathing. 

Finally, he heaved the concrete away and dove for the next piece, but it was already rising. Tony grabbed it, eyes wide as he saw that Peter was somehow managing to push from below. With a quick motion from them both, the concrete went flying, and there was his son, dressed in his shitty old patrol pajamas, a web shooter attached to each wrist, and a cracked lens in one of those ridiculous goggles, which was dangling around his neck. The kid’s chest was heaving, his face red and tearstained, but he was _alive_ and Tony’s vision fuzzed for a second from the sheer relief that crashed over him. 

He stumbled out of the suit. “Peter!”

Peter threw himself at Tony. “Dad!”

Tony’s arms closed around him and suddenly, he felt like he could breathe again. He yanked Peter in close, face mashing against sweaty hair and inhaled in deep. He smelled like dust, metal, sweat, _blood, _and a hint of cologne. “Dammit, kid, I thought I lost you.”

Peter sniffled, snot nose buried right against Tony’s expensive jacket collar. Tony clutched him tighter. 

For a while, Tony was content to just physically reassure himself that yes, Peter was alive, and fine, and _safe._ Then, when Peter eventually made an embarrassed noise and tried to pull back, Tony let him with narrowed eyes. “Right, now that I’m no longer in danger of a sudden heart attack, why don’t you explain yourself, mister.”

Peter’s eyes widened. “There’s no time! He’s here! Somewhere, he…” Peter spun frantically in a circle, eyes on the sky. “He’s going after the plane!”

“FRIDAY, scan. Now, who is he?” Tony had to reach out and grab Peter’s shoulder, pulling his attention back in. “Eyes on me, who is _he?_”

“The Vulture!” Peter waved his hands frantically. “It was him! In the car! I mean, Mr. Allen, I mean, Liz’s dad!”

Tony stared. “What?”

“Liz said something in the car, and I dunno, it must have tipped him off, because he asked to speak to me, and somehow he _knew_. About me, about Spider-man! He threatened me and—”

Tony cut him off, jaw tight. “He WHAT?” His heart was pounding again, this time with horror. Peter’s date’s _father_ had been the criminal behind all of this and had gone after Peter at the dance? Where he should have been _safe?_

“I had to stop him,” Peter pleaded. “I had to! I told Ned to call Happy, and I was gonna call you once I got my phone back, I swear. There just wasn’t any time! And there’s no time now, he’s gonna get your plane!”

Tony put his hands to his head and tried to think past the panic and the worry and the general sense of terror that had pervaded the last half an hour of his life. “Okay, stop.” He turned around, facing the suit. “FRIDAY, tell Happy to turn the plane around, bring it back in, right now.” He’d been thinking about maybe not moving some stuff, after all, this would just kick that into gear.

Peter’s shoulders were slumped with relief and his eyes shone with gratitude. “Thank you. Thanks. Just…”

Tony grabbed his shoulder. “Peter, I will handle this, okay? This is my stuff, my plane. Now that I know this guy is definitely after the plane, I will handle it. Now you, _you_ are going to get in that car and _wait_ for me to handle it.” 

Peter cast a dubious gaze at the car, so Tony gripped his shoulder tight enough that the kid would need to really resist to stop him, and gave him a little push towards the car, marching him over. Peter stumbled into the passenger door, a tired, worried look on his face. “Get in,” Tony said, more gently. 

The Iron Man armor still stood guard. Tony addressed it. “Follow us back.”

The armor saluted and leapt to hover in the air. Tony spared a moment to observe the sight of a wrecked silver Audi—beautiful car, completely totaled—and vowed to bring _that_ up with the kid as well. He was not giving Peter even the most beat-up hunk of junk of a car if the kid was _that bad_ of a driver. Maybe he should build a driving simulator to avoid any further accidents?

Tony shook his head and slid into the driver’s seat. He couldn’t help but stop to look at the silent, beat-up, bloody teenager slumped dejectedly in the passenger seat. How the hell was he going to explain this one to May?

Maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe he should take Peter back with him, at least until they could clean the kid up.

He was a terrible person. May deserved to know.

Tony breathed and forced himself to focus. “Where’re your clothes?”

“Back at school.” Peter flicked a quick look at him from under his hair. 

Tony sighed. FRIDAY’s voice came from his watch. “Boss, Happy says the plane is on target, nothing’s been tampered with. He’s programed it to return, but it will take some time for the plane to make a full loop.”

Tony closed his eyes. “Fuck. Okay, tell him to watch it like a hawk!”

In the other seat, Peter shot upright. “It’s too long, he’s probably already there!”

Tony shoot Peter a quelling look. “I’ve got this. FRIDAY, can you track the Vulture?”

“No, Boss, too much cloud cover for the satellites. We’d need scanners in the air.” 

“Well, get them then! Find that damn thief! Send the suits down and do an aerial grid search on the most likely trajectories, calculating starting point, time since lift-off, plane speed, and current course correct!”

“Will do,” FRIDAY chirped. “Keep your pants on.”

Peter choked back a snicker. 

“I wouldn’t be laughing, you’re still in _big_ trouble.”

Peter immediately sobered and slouched in his seat. Despite that it would have been wise for him to stay quiet, Tony heard him mutter, “But if not for me, you wouldn’t even know anything was wrong.”

Tony opened his mouth to snap back, something like ‘That’s irrelevant, you put yourself in danger!’ but then a small part of him that still remembered what it was like being a young teenager wanting approval kicked in and his mouth snapped shut. Peter, however unfortunately, did have a point. Tony wouldn’t have known about the theft until this Vulture had made off with god only knows what tech, and the thought of his tech once more being in the hands of terrorists, being use to _hurt_ _and_ _kill _innocent people, made him sick to his stomach. 

So as much as he hated it, Peter had a point. But that didn’t mean Tony _also_ didn’t have a point. Peter shouldn’t have gone after the man, he should have immediately called Tony himself. Instead, a fifteen year old boy thought he could deal with something this serious by himself. Where had Tony gone wrong? Had he not made himself clear enough, before? Had he not shown Peter that he could be trusted and relied upon? 

He put the car into gear and spun it around. They were going back to the Tower.

“FRIDAY, order some clothes for Peter, I don’t care what, just make sure they fit.”

Peter perked up in his seat, sliding a quick look in his direction like he thought that so long as he didn’t stare, Tony would forget he was angry. 

There was a moment of silence, then it was broken as Peter apparently could no longer contain himself. “But what about the—”

“No longer your concern.”

“But—”

“It’s being dealt with.”

There was maybe one to two minutes of silence as Tony drove. Peter sulked, Tony calculated contingencies and the best way to contain this entire incident. For starters, he was going to have to replace that silver Audi his son stole and totaled. 

Finally, Peter burst. He shot upright, turned to face Tony in his torn and bloody clothing, looking pathetically like something the cat had dragged in, and word vomited everywhere, “Look, it wasn’t my fault, okay, like, I didn’t _plan_ this! Liz’s dad totally made me in the car, and then I was just gonna go like, talk him down. I _told_ Ned to call someone, I wasn’t gonna fight him, but he was Liz’s _dad_, so I didn’t want something bad to happen because then Liz woulda been devastated, I can’t do that do her! I already ruined her night by just running off like a total asshole.” Peter’s face scrunched in disgust and Tony flinched, sharply reminded of himself for a moment. Peter didn’t stop, “I was just gonna talk him him outta it, but then he attacked me and I was just gonna stop him from hurting anyone. I’m not weak, and…I didn’t think he’d…he’d…”

Tony’s hands gripped the wheel in a white-knuckled hold. He took a deep breath in, to try and clear some of the tightness from his throat. His voice still came out hard. “Didn’t think, what? That he wouldn’t hurt you if he knew you were just a kid? These types of people don’t _care_ about hurting others, Peter, and they definitely don’t care if you’re just a kid!”

“But he’s Liz’s dad!”

Tony actually dared to take his eyes off the road so he could stare at Peter. His eyes were wide and watery and stunned, like he just couldn’t comprehend it, and maybe…maybe Tony was expecting too much. Peter was young, and naive, he didn’t know just how terrible people could really be. He had no idea that someone could raise another human being, could profess to love them, to care for them, to be there for them through thick and thin, and then, suddenly, without warning, turn around and try to _kill_ them. And all for money and power. 

Tony should count himself lucky that Peter knew nothing of those kinds of people, even if it meant he thought the best of humanity, and that it had spurred him to go after the Vulture because he believed that no father would have really done the things the Vulture actually did do. Like collapse a building on top of a fifteen year old boy. 

When Tony got his hands on this guy, he was going to break every goddamn bone in his body. He was going to collapse a building on _him_ and see how _he liked it!_

He had to loosen his hands on the wheel before he cracked a joint.

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony jerked. His head whipped around. Without thinking, he blurted out, “What happened to ‘Dad’?”

Peter flushed and his gaze darted away. His fingers twitched in his lap. “Uh… I… I didn’t…Was…was that okay?”

Tony licked his lips. Honestly? Yes, yes it was. The first time Peter had said it, he’d freaked out a little, but that time had long passed, and now… “Yeah. Yeah, that was okay.”

“O-Okay.”

Tony’s lips quirked. His eyebrow rose. “Okay.”

They were getting close to the Tower. To spare Peter’s reddened face any more embarrassment, Tony tapped the interface and asked, “FRIDAY, update.”

“Clothes are on their way for Peter, the Iron Man suits are in the air, tracking the Vulture, and Mr. Hogan’s team is on the ground, ready to deploy if anything goes wrong. Trajectory still on course. I’ve also taken the liberty of ordering some food. And a first aid kit,” FRIDAY added in a dry tone. 

Right. The med bay in the Tower would have been packed up and moved already. Dammit. He was definitely not selling the thing now. Peter needed a base close to home, somewhere he could feel safe, and come to if he was in trouble. The Tower had the best security, or it would again, once he refitted it.

“Good girl, Fri.”

“I know.”

Tony rolled his eyes. 

“Wow, your AI is really sassy. Did you build her that way, or did she learn that from you?” 

Tony cut Peter a mild glare. The boy was smiling cheekily. “I do not need sass from two directions.” The kid’s smile widened. 

“I learned from the best,” FRIDAY chose to response. 

Tony threw up a hand. “Mutiny! From my own flesh and blood!”

Finally, they pulled into the Tower parking lot. There was a whole fleet of black cars waiting, with men gearing up. It looked like Happy had pulled together a damn SWAT team, even though Tony knew they were all part of SI’s Security team. There were perks to hiring ex-SHEILD members.

Tony turned and pointed a sharp finger at Peter. “You, stay in the car. I don’t want them seeing you.”

Peter nodded, wide-eyed. As Tony went for the door handle, he also scrambled to pull his dirty mask back on, and Tony paused. “Actually, if you can sneak inside while I distract them, do it. If not, stay.”

Then he got out and strode over to the milling group. He could see Happy barking orders for everyone to get suited up and into teams. When Happy spotted him, he paled and clutched his tablet close to his chest. Then he walked up to Tony like a man walking to the gallows. “Boss, I…”

Tony held up a hand. “Save it. This was an outside job, you did everything you were supposed to, but I _will_ hold you responsible if we don’t get it all back.”

Happy’s expression hardened and he nodded sharply. Tony tried to let his expression relax. He stepped in close, hand reaching for Happy’s shoulder. “We can’t let this stuff fall into the wrong hands, Hap. I won’t let that happen. Just make sure to account for everything.”

Expression even grimmer than before, Happy stepped back. “I know, I will, and I promise, we’ll hunt these bastards down and stop them for good.”

“Interface with the Iron Man armor, find this guy, when you find him, make sure he doesn’t get to the plane and let me know.” Tony’s lips pressed together so tightly he felt the blood leave them. “This guy…he’s mine.”

Happy, bless him, didn’t even question it. “You got it.”

“I’ll be in the Tower. If this is an outside job, then someone hacked us, I’m going to get to the bottom of that. Be ready to target their location. Now, get ready.”

Happy was already striding away, yelling orders. He looked a lot more assured than he had before and Tony sighed, running a hand through his hair. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red and turned to look, but saw nothing but the nearly empty parking garage. He had a feeling it was Peter, and sure enough, when he checked the car, the passenger seat was empty. 

If Tony, who knew Peter was there, had thought he was hallucinating that red flash, then he doubted anyone else had seen anything. He nodded again at Happy, and at the men, then headed with purpose for the elevator. Once inside, he expected to see Peter, but it wasn’t until he heard a rustle and looked up that he saw his son clinging to the corner of the ceiling like something out of a horror movie. Because that was totally normal. Tony stared. Peter stared back. Tony stepped to the side. “You can come down now.”

Peter slowly lowered himself from the ceiling using just his fingertips, which had to take an incredible amount of strength. His kid sure was something. 

They stood next to each other quietly as the elevator went up. Peter fidgeted but didn’t actually say anything. 

The penthouse looked sad and empty. No furniture, no nothing, not even FRIDAY’s voice coming from the walls, because Tony had dismantled her devices last week. The place seemed dead, but it had a working shower and it had privacy. 

Tony’s watch buzzed, and FRIDAY’s voice came out small and tinny, “Boss, delivery guy is here. Food is still incoming. Also, Mark 42 may have spotted something of interest.”

Tony took a deep breath and pivoted on his heel to face the raggedy looking teenager who desperately needed a good clean, some first aid, food, and rest. “Alright, kiddo, here’s what’s gonna happen. I’m going to go stop this guy, and you’re going to go down that hall, use the shower, change into the clothes the delivery guy is bringing up, use the first aid kit that’s on its way as well, and eat the food that’s coming. You are _not_ going to follow me, or leave this floor under _any_ circumstances.” When Peter only stared at him, blinking, Tony added, “I’m not hearing an agreement. I want your word, Peter.”

Peter shuffled his feet, eyes darting away and back. Tony narrowed his own. Finally, Peter’s shoulders slumped. “You’ll be careful?”

Oh, was that the issue? He could work with that. Tony stepped closer and gently grasped Peter’s shoulders, mindful of any bruises. “Hey, I’ve been doing this a long time, okay? Been in way worse than this, too. I know what I’m doing. Normally this guy is well below my pay grade, but he went after my stuff and he went after _you._” Tony touched a finger to Peter’s chest. “I’ll stop him.”

“Don’t hurt him, please!” Peter blurted out, much to Tony’s surprise. His arms dropped back to his sides. 

“What?”

Peter shuffled, hands coming together nervously. “Look, I know he’s a bad guy, but he’s Liz’s dad and…he can’t be all bad if he cares about Liz and Liz cares about him, and I know she does, so promise you won’t hurt him too bad. Please?”

“Okay,” Tony found himself promising. “I promise.” Great. This just became that much harder. 

Then again, the more he thought about it, the more the idea sat cold and sour in his stomach. The idea of accidentally killing his son’s girlfriend’s father made him cringe. This man might be a killer and a thief, but he had a child, too. A family. And yes, he’d tried to kill Peter, and Tony was going to make sure he could _never_ do that again, but deliberately trying to harm him?

He looked into Peter’s worried eyes and realized that this Vulture had a daughter out there who would be just as worried and upset if anything happened to her father.

“I promise,” he said, again, and maybe this time there was something in his voice, but Peter relaxed and smiled, tremulously. 

“Thanks,” he whispered. 

Tony pointed. “Now, go get cleaned up. Do _not_ leave this penthouse.”

* * *

One of the Iron Man armors Tony had deployed had spotted something in the air over Queens, and as his own armor folded over him, FRIDAY updated him grimly, “Mark 42 found a bogey, the plane is gone.”

Tony closed his eyes. “Shit. Where did we lose contact?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hack it. And call Hap.”

Code ran in the corner of his vision, while the call connected and began to ring. Happy picked up almost immediately and Tony launched into a succinct explanation. The Vulture had an accomplice who had hacked them, the plane was missing, and Tony was hacking them back (and obviously going to find them). He’d send the coordinates as soon as he had them and Happy needed to send a team immediately.

The second thing Tony did was have FRIDAY run numbers for all possible plane trajectories given the assumption that the Vulture had likely needed to board the plane and hack it from the inside. Calculating time taken to reach the plane from the warehouse he’d found Peter in, and how long it probably took to get onboard and compromise the systems, Tony had a pretty good idea of when they’d lost control, and it hadn’t been long. Which meant the plane couldn’t be too far off course.

Sure enough, by reorganizing his grid search with the armors, they soon spotted the distortion of the plane heading over Brooklyn.

The plane wasn’t moving too fast, not with its precious cargo, so it was only a matter of a minute for Tony to catch up in his armor and join the silent Iron Man sentinel that was flying above an odd ripple in the air that his scanners told him was a large plane. They might have protected it against satellites, but Tony had purposefully incorporated a way for his armors to interface with the ‘invisible’ plane. Just in case. 

Thank god for oversight. 

He flew a quick loop and found where the Vulture had entered the plane easy enough, since there was a giant pair of steampunk wings latched onto his baby’s belly like an enormous, blood sucking leech. 

A haze of rage overcame him and Tony raised his repulsors and started firing. How dare he! How dare he hijack Tony’s plane?! And steal his tech?! And _hurt_ his son?!

The wings were clamped on tight, but a few seconds of carefully aimed repulsor blasts dislodged the entire thing, except there was a man now attached. Tony narrowed his eyes. On the plus side, the plane was no longer being robbed, on the downside, he was _not_ letting this asshole get away. Not when he knew who Peter was, not when he’d threatened his _son_ and tried to kill him. 

The plane could wait.

Tony knew he was making a stupid decision. It was strategically more sound to secure the plane and make sure the weapons and tech on board didn’t fall into the wrong hands. For all he knew, there could be others, not to mention the plane was still hijacked.

But Tony Stark wasn’t known for his impulse control. At least, he hadn’t been, and sure, he’d been trying to turn over a new leaf lately, what with the Sokovia disaster and the Accords, but the memory of Peter buried under that rubble had resurfaced in fresh technicolor surround-sound. He couldn’t let this guy get away. Peter’s safety depended on it, and right then and there, Peter was the most important thing to protect.

Besides, what had he told Rogers all those years ago? That’s right—he wasn’t the kind of guy to lay down on the wire to let the others cross, he was the kind of guy who’d cut the wire. Which is why he told FRIDAY, right as he gave chase to the Vulture, “FRIDAY, converge on the plane, get rid of whatever is hijacking the signal and hacking the system, and get that tech back to Happy.”

“Boss, what about…”

“He’s mine. The Vulture is mine. Just get it done.”

FRIDAY went quiet, but Tony didn’t care about her silent disapproval. He was Iron Man, and this guy? There was a reason he’d been trying to stay below Tony’s radar. Well too bad for him that he’d fallen right smack in the middle of Tony Stark’s crosshairs. 

The Vulture was fast. He, or an associate, clearly had a good head for mechanics, but he was no Tony Stark, and the wings were certainly no Iron Man. Tony caught up within moments, and didn’t even bother with theatrics or discussion, he just barreled straight into the flying man, on a sudden downward trajectory that would bring him crashing down right on the edge of Coney Island.

The Vulture’s wings thrashed and sparks flew where they impacted the suit, but the Iron Man armor was made from a gold-titanium alloy that was not so easily torn, and Tony ignored the small dents that appeared in the shell of the suit. The Vulture swore, gloved hands scrambling, and creepy glowing mask eyes casting about wildly as he shook his head from side to side, but Tony only increased the power to his foot thrusters. 

Perhaps a hundred feet from impact, suddenly, one of the wing tips lodged under a plate in his armor, and Tony twisted to the side with a curse, as the sharp edge clipped a wire. Warning lights flashed across his HUD, and he was forced to let go before the wing could cut any deeper, but by then it was too late. The Vulture desperately tried to right himself, wings flailing, but it only slowed the impact enough that he went rolling across the pebbly sand rather than splat right into. 

Tony landed with a thump, kicking up sand, as Vulture scrambled to his feet, one of the wings bent slightly, but still mostly intact. Before he could take off again, the Iron Man suit let off a powerful blast, and the wing turbine exploded straight out the back, leaving the right side of the wings completely inoperable.

The second blast was aimed at the second turbine, and the Vulture ducked and rolled, detaching smoothly from the wings, right before the blast hit. The man sprang to his feet and began to run. 

Tony snorted. Yeah, right. “I don’t think so,” he muttered. He was on the man before he made it half-way up the embankment, and for a cocky second, Tony felt like standing in a pose, until he registered the buzz-hum of an energy gun and he had to speed backwards as the man somehow whipped the weapon out of nowhere and aimed a shot right at his chest.

Well, this just got more interesting. Only problem was…Vulture didn’t have any armor, and Tony? Tony had a whole suit.

In the end, it only took a few blasts and one narrow graze by the energy gun, before the Vulture lay on the sand, mask half-torn off his head, blood dripping down one side of his face, and what was definitely a few broken ribs to go along with his burn from Tony’s repulsor blast, and no, he didn’t regret it, not when all he could see was Peter, lying under that rubble, crying, scared, and desperate.

He grabbed the man by the throat and pulled him up, then reached over and ripped off the rest of the mask. He wanted to see this bastard; look him in his eyes. Wanted to see what kind of man could try to murder a frickin’ _kid._

Tony didn’t know what he expected. Scars maybe, or a cruel glint, some hard twist to his mouth, but it was just a man, a bit older than Tony, maybe, with eyes that looked resigned. His fingers scrambled at the armor’s hold.

Tony slid the faceplate up so he could glare properly, man to man. Father to father.

Shit. He’d promised Peter. 

His fingers tightened reflexively, and he counted to five in his head before he could force himself to loosen the grip. He’d _promised_ Peter, but… Tony’s eyes narrowed.

“You don’t look like a child murderer. Tell me, what would your daughter think? Or did you even think about her? Do you even _care?_”

The man, Liz’s father, stared at him, eyes white around the edges and face red from Tony’s grip. He loosened it a bit more, because he wanted to hear the answer. He had to _know_.

“This is about Peter,” the man finally gasped. “This isn’t about the tech, this is about the kid.”

Tony felt his nostrils flare as he breathed. His teeth ground together. “Don’t you fucking _dare_ say his name like that!” He jerked the man closer. “You dropped a goddamn _building on him!_”

The Vulture tugged futilely at Tony’s grip, gasping. He stared. “Why…the hell…does Tony Stark care about…” He stopped, eyes flickering over Tony’s face, down to the grip around his neck, then back again. “The suit. The smarts. He’s yours, isn’t he?”

Tony’s mind blanked. How…? He snatched his hand back and the man crumpled to the sand, coughing. He powered a repulsor blast and aimed it, and god, what was he doing? He couldn’t just kill this man, he couldn’t, but the Vulture _knew._

He knew about Peter and Tony, he knew about Peter and Spider-man, and he’d already tried to kill Peter once. Even if Tony turned him over to the Feds, what if the man talked? Right here, right now, there were no witnesses, no one to disbelieve him if he said he had tried to take him in, but he had had an energy gun, and the repulsor shot had gone wide.

The Vulture looked at him, mouth grim, then his lips quirked. “You’re going to kill me to avenge your son.” He locked eyes with Tony. “Guess we’re not so different after all.”

“I am _nothing_ like you,” Tony hissed. “I don’t go around trying to kill innocent kids and pretend like I’m doing it for _love._ Don’t give me that shit, you had choices, and you chose to do everything _wrong._ And now…”

“So the kid did survive. Figured he might.”

Tony’s mouth opened and shut. “You FIGURED he MIGHT?” If his arm weren’t supported and locked in place by sheets of titanium alloy, he’d be shaking. “You piece of fucking shit!” The repulsor energy hummed brighter in his palm.

The Vulture’s lips quirked, he sighed and then he looked away. “Don’t tell Lizzy.”

And Peter’s face swam in Tony’s memories, begging, _Don’t hurt him. He’s Liz’s dad._

That’s right, this man was a father. He had a daughter. A beautiful, kind, smart daughter, if Peter’s praises were anything to go by.

Getting rid of this man would save Peter, keep him safe, but if Peter ever found out? Would his son ever forgive him? And could he do that to another kid, take their parent away? Even if that parent were a murderous asshole who belonged in prison?

Tony swallowed, hand lowering. What was he doing? What the actual loving hell was he doing? He couldn’t just kill this man, any man, in cold blood. Not even for Peter. 

The Vulture jerked his head back around, watching him warily. “What… You’re not gonna do it?”

Tony stepped closer. “Even after everything you did to him, do you know he begged me not to hurt you? Said that _Liz_ loved you, so you had to be good somewhere, and that it wouldn’t be fair to her to lose you. After you threatened him and tried to kill him, he made me _promise_ not to hurt you.” 

The Vulture’s eyes widened and his brow furrowed. Tony raised the repulsor again threateningly. “But mark my words, if you come after anyone I care about again, I _will_ make you regret it, I will—”

“Deal.”

Tony stopped abruptly, arm dropping. “Excuse me?”

The Vulture stared at him levelly. “I said, deal. I guess I owe the kid, now. But you make sure my Lizzy is alright. Do that, and I’ll owe you, too.” His intent was obvious and Tony didn’t need to be a genius to work it out. The man was promising to keep the secret, both his and Peter’s, in exchange for his life, and the safety of his daughter.

It rankled a little, that Tony even had to concede anything, but Peter’s safety was too important. He nodded. “I’ll see to it.”

The man let out a deep breath, slumped and then held out his one good arm. “Alright, then, guess you got me.”

* * *

When Tony finally got back to the Tower, nearly an hour later, after the fiasco that was dealing with the damn Feds, he found Peter sitting cross-legged on top of the kitchen island, dressed in a comfy looking pair of jeans and a pull-over cashmere sweater and eating take-out straight from the boxes. Now that he was clean and in fresh clothes, he looked a hell of a lot better than he had when he had come stumbling out of that building rubble, and Tony stopped in the entrance to just take it in and let the relief settle his stomach.

If the kid didn’t give him a heart attack, then he was definitely going to give him a stomach ulcer, what with all this worrying. No wonder most parents seemed crazy. Worrying about their kids drove them mad.

Who ever would have thought Tony Stark would be a card carrying member of that group, one day?

Peter turned at the sound of Tony’s entrance and gulped down his mouthful, spine straightening. “Did you stop him?”

Tony shuffled over to the kitchen counter and leaned against it heavily. It wasn’t even that late, but he felt exhausted, emotionally more than physically. He eyed the remaining food and noticed the many empty containers that were already stacked to Peter’s left. He pushed them aside to reach for something that looked and smelled like egg noodles.

Peter made an impatient noise as Tony hunted for another plastic fork. He found it and waved it, “Hold your horses, I’m hungry.”

“Eat and talk,” Peter retorted, finding and handing him a plastic spoon and a napkin as well. His gaze was expectant. 

“We stopped him.” Tony forked some cold noodles into his mouth. “The plane is safe, and the Vulture, Toomes, is in custody.”

Peter stared at him, then down at his lap and the container of fried rice he was eating. He looked up, brow furrowed. “So…it’s over?”

“It’s over,” Tony confirmed. 

Peter looked back at his food, seemingly lost. He ate a few forkfuls of rice, and Tony just watched him, eyes narrowing at the small little scrapes on his skin that had already scabbed over and the bruises that had already turned yellow, instead of purple. 

That horrible, haunting image of Peter, trapped, and the sound of his voice, ragged and terrified, as he called out, once again flashed across the front of his mind, and he flinched, tearing his gaze away to stare down at his shaking hands. 

It was stupid. Peter was _right there._ Tony hadn’t lost him. He looked up, carefully. Still there, not terribly worse for wear, and well enough to stuff his face with Chinese takeout. The kid was fine. Probably a bit scared, but _fine._

Tony still found himself reaching out, until he had a firm hold of Peter’s shoulder and could feel the heat and Peter’s pulse. Peter’s arm froze, fork poised over the carton. “Uh…”

“I almost lost you,” Tony found himself admitting. “Toomes dropped a _building _on you and I almost lost you.”

Peter flinched, shoulders hunching. His eyes darted away. “I…”

“You could have died.” Tony had said it already, multiple times, but he found he couldn’t stop repeating it, because it wouldn’t stop haunting him. “You shouldn’t have gone after him.”

Peter looked over, sharply. “But if I hadn’t, he would’ve stolen all your stuff and you wouldn’t have known to stop him!”

“You don’t know that,” Tony retorted calmly. “If you’d’ve called me, I probably would have figured it out.” His eyebrows rose. “They don’t call me a genius because of my good looks.”

Peter looked back down again, mouth twisting guiltily. 

Tony took a deep breath. “Which is why…you’re grounded.”

He couldn’t believe he was standing here, saying those words to a teenager, but, well, here he was, Tony Stark, grounding someone. Peter looked just as indignant as Tony imagined he would have, if his father had tried to do the same thing to him (not that Howard Stark had ever been invested enough to ‘ground’ him). The kid spluttered, “Grounded? You can’t…”

Tony’s raised hand and a sharp noise cut him off. “Uh, yeah, no, I can, because you _agreed_ to try out this whole parenting thing, which means, surprise! I can ground you, and you are seriously grounded. What does that mean? That means you hand over the suit and no patrol…_for a month._”

Peter’s mouth had been steadily dropping, but now it clicked shut and he drew back, outraged. “A month!”

Tony stared back resolutely. “A whole month. No suit, no patrol, no Spider-man.” When Peter looked ready to protest again, Tony narrowed his eyes and cut him off, “No, you disobeyed _twice_ and put yourself in danger _again_ after I gave you another chance. Only the extenuating circumstances of Toomes finding out and threatening you are stopping me from taking the suit back for good, so you’re on real thin ice here, I wouldn’t push it.”

Peter seemed to keep his mouth shut through sheer willpower, but Tony could tell it was a struggle. He tapped a finger against the counter sharply. “Frankly, I think I’m being generous, considering you nearly got yourself killed.”

This time, Peter looked away and poked at his rice like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. “Yeah, okay. That’s, uh, that’s fair.” His voice was suddenly subdued. 

Tony eyed him, wondering where all that teenage indignation had suddenly gone, but when there was no more comment on the matter, he shrugged. 

Score one for Tony’s parenting. This wasn’t that hard. He could totally do this. 

They slowly demolished the rest of the take-out, which was good, because there would be no one around to eat leftovers. Through bites of chicken and noodles, Tony explained that he would drop Peter back off at the school, where he could get his dance suit, change, and pretend like nothing bad had happened. Peter was agreeable, nodding along to the plan, and bringing up the rather unfortunate fact that he had no phone, as it had been in Toomes’ car.

That was a problem easily solved by Tony going down to the product department and grabbing one of the spare, unwrapped StarkPhones they kept on hand for quality assurance testing, in case they needed to configure a new phone or one broke. He made sure FRIDAY logged it and ordered a replacement, so Pepper wouldn’t murder him for messing with the department budget.

“Just tell May you broke it and I replaced it,” Tony told him as he handed over the box and Peter gaped at it with an awed expression.

“This is the new one!”

“Yup. Brand new. Try not to leave this one in a murderous villain’s car.”

Peter mumbled something under his breath, and Tony caught the eye roll. The expression disappeared quickly in favor of more excitement as Peter tore into the wrapping and pulled out all the bits and pieces and the instruction manual, flipping through it with a grin. He had to throw it all back in the box since there was no time to set it up and the hour was getting late. May would be expecting to pick Peter up from the dance.

Tony checked for updates on the plane situation as he and Peter rode the elevator down to the parking lot. The plane had made it successfully back to the Tower and Happy was busy accounting for all the contents. He’d have an update in the morning.

They were nearly home free, when suddenly the elevator stopped at the business levels and both Tony and Peter looked up as the doors slid open for one Pepper Potts, Stark Industries CEO. In retrospect, there was no one else who had the power to stop an elevator that had Tony in it _except _Pepper.

“I thought you were heading back to LA tonight?” Tony blurted out in greeting. 

Pepper raised both eyebrows at him and didn’t respond. Her eyes slid over to Peter, who stood frozen and uncertain, like a deer caught in the headlights. “I heard we had an extra guest.” Her eyes crinkled and she stepped forward into the elevator, holding out her hand. “You must be Peter, I’m Pepper.”

Peter’s mouth dropped open. He fumbled with the new phone packaging, trying to transfer it from his right arm to his left, and reached out awkwardly. “Mrs. Potts, I know. I mean, Miss Potts, CEO Potts? It’s really nice to meet you, you’re awesome, I mean, you run the whole company, so that’s neat, and, uh…” His eyes darted between Tony and Pepper and Tony just knew he was thinking about every tabloid and report on their numerous apparent ‘break ups’ and ‘make ups’. 

“And she’s also my girlfriend,” Tony added, “so there’s that. So, girlfriend, meet son, I guess.” He flung a hand at them both and grinned.

Pepper shook Peter’s hand gently. “It’s very nice to meet you too, Peter. Tony’s told me about you, and I wanted to meet you before I had to head back to the LA office. I hope we’ll get to actually sit down together at some point?”

Peter nodded rapidly. “Wow, yeah, that would be cool, if you want. T-Da-uhh, _he_ told you about me?” He slowly looked over at Tony, clearly suspicious. “What…uh, what did he tell you, exactly?”

Tony decided to be helpful and clear the air. “She knows about Spider-man, if that’s what you’re trying to hint at.” He tried to pretend he hadn’t heard Peter’s fumble over what to call him. He was glad Pepper was pretending like she hadn’t heard it either.

The kid choked on air, nearly dropping his new phone. He wheezed out a high pitched, “She does!?”

Tony exchanged a glance with Pepper, whose smiling poker face was impeccable. Still, Tony could see the small uptick in her lips and the slight crinkle in her eyes that said she was highly amused, and hopefully also quite charmed. Peter was a Stark, of course he was charming.

“‘Course she does, who do you think put together that intern cover for you?” Tony clapped him on the shoulder as Peter’s head whipped around to stare at him. 

“Intern cover? Wait, what do you mean?”

Pepper shook her head and shot Tony a look. She crossed her arms. “If anyone asks or digs into it, you are actually registered at the company, files with HR and everything, as an unpaid intern.”

Peter’s eyes were extremely wide. “Oh.” Then he frowned. “Isn’t that kinda, like, nepotism?”

Normally, Tony might agree, but extenuating circumstances and all. Pepper was apparently on the same page, because she smiled kindly, explaining, “I’ve seen your school transcripts, and your extracurriculars, there’s no arguing that you’re an extremely smart, extremely talented young man.” Pepper stopped a moment to allow Peter to blush and gather himself. Her eyes flickered to meet Tony’s and there was an odd twinkle. “Besides, not only is it unpaid, but one could definitely argue that you need to gain experience at the company, especially if you might inherit it one day.”

That, apparently, was too much. Peter finally dropped his phone. “Wh-what!”

Since Pepper was wearing killer heels and a pencil skirt, Tony resigned himself to being the one to stoop down and pick up the box, checking the contents to make sure his accident-prone son hadn’t broken yet another phone. He quickly fit all the pieces back into place and closed the lid of the box properly this time, tucking it under his arm. 

“Well,” said Pepper airily, with a mild smirk, like she hadn’t just opened a massive can of worms, “I’ve got to run, it was lovely to meet you, Peter, let’s chat again sometime soon! Tony.” He automatically leaned in so she could kiss his cheek. 

The elevator doors slid open as soon as she turned around, and Tony realized they had, in fact, reached the ground floor. Pepper gave a wave and strode out, meeting up with her assistant half-way across the lobby. Tony reached forward and punched the button for the garage. Next to him, Peter watched in silent wonder. As soon as the door slid shut again, the kid whirled on him. “Might inherit! That wasn’t serious, was it?”

_Dammit, Pepper._ Tony shrugged. “Already changed my Will.”

Peter spluttered. Tony pressed the phone box back into his hands, where he automatically clutched it close to his chest, still stunned. “Here, try not to drop it again.”

The doors dinged open again and Peter trailed Tony out without even checking if the coast was clear. His eyes were fixed on Tony. “Wait, seriously? Why?”

Tony waited until he’d unlocked the car and got Peter inside before he answered, “What do you mean, why? I don’t see any _other_ potential inheritors around here, do you?”

“But…you could, like, donate it, or…give it to someone with more business sense. I can’t run a company!”

Tony sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He’d been hoping to wait to have this conversation. Now was especially not the right time for it. He twisted in his seat, facing Peter, who looked perturbed. “Look, writing you into the Will just means that you have the potential to inherit, not that you actually will, especially if you don’t want to. We can talk about all that stuff later, right now I want to get you back to your aunt, before she figures out you’re not still at the dance.”

Peter grimaced, whole face twisting. “Oh…yeah…that would be bad.”

Tony grunted as he put the car into gear and turned towards the exit. “What’s bad is how much we’re lying to the woman.”

“Okay…that too.”

* * *

Peter knew he’d screwed up, okay. He had left his phone in the Vulture’s car, so he told himself he couldn’t call his… his _dad_, but then all it would have taken was a bit of hacking, courtesy of Ned, and Peter could have called him. Then Iron Man could have tracked the Vulture down and dealt with him, and probably not gotten an entire building dumped on his head.

Peter could feel the shiver work its way down his spine at just the briefest recollection of that horrible moment. He’d honestly thought he was going to die. 

But then Iron Man had appeared, like magic, just like that time at the Expo, swooping in and saving his ass. Just hearing Tony’s voice call out to him had dragged him out of his panic, and hearing the shift of the concrete above him had given him the strength to push up and free himself.

And to top it off, he hadn’t been yelled at for being stupid, but hugged, the same way Aunt May and Uncle Ben had hugged the life out of him when they’d found him alive and well after the Expo disaster. Even though he’d gotten separated and wandered off, like he said he wouldn’t, instead of getting in trouble, he’d only gotten hugs, kisses, and a lot of reassurance.

Peter could tell his dad had been mad, but mostly, he’d been scared, just like his aunt and uncle, and that, more than the suit or the ice cream, had made Peter realize…Tony Stark cared. He cared a lot. Maybe he even loved Peter already, the way Peter was beginning to love him.

And that made him want to try even harder. Tony had been right to be afraid, because Peter _had_ ended up underneath that building, crushed, alone, and in that moment he’d wished he’d never gone after the Vulture by himself. More than that, he realized just how outclassed he was, something Tony had been saying all along. 

He finally _got it._

And, yeah, the initial shock of being told he wouldn’t have the suit for a month…wouldn’t get to be Spider-man for a whole month? That had stung, badly, but the more Peter had time to reflect, the more he thought…maybe that was fair. He’d screwed up, he’d nearly gotten himself killed…and honestly? Right now, he didn’t think he _could_ go out there. Not yet. 

Tony had been right. The Avengers were the big leagues, but Peter? Peter was supposed to look out for the little guy, do his part to keep Queens and Brooklyn a happy, safe place. Villains like the Vulture? Those were meant for more experienced heroes. 

Maybe one day he’d be ready, but that day was not today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. Okay. So there's a lot to unpack in this chapter. Peter's optimism and hero complex. Tony's Stane trauma and inability to deal with his newfound overprotective dad instincts. The fact that I went back and re-wrote this like 3 different ways and this was the one that made the most sense in the end. I know people were probably hoping for more action on Peter's end, or even between Tony and the Vulture, but in the end this is the way the dominos fell.
> 
> Anyway, have some more IronDad moments and Tony's first real attempts at parenting.
> 
> Also, Enter Pepper Potts.


End file.
